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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787959">How We Became</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticxPanda/pseuds/CelticxPanda'>CelticxPanda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Justice League &amp; Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Celtic Mythology &amp; Folklore, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, Origin Story, Original Character-centric, Platonic Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby to Lovers, Polyamory, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticxPanda/pseuds/CelticxPanda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All things have a beginning, whether it's a lightning strike or the flash of a camera.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne/Original Female Character(s), Clark Kent/Original Female Character(s), Wally West/Original Female Character(s), Wally West/Original Female Character(s)/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What if the Storm Ends and I Don't See You as You are Now Ever Again?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a rewriting of an far older story of mine. I will say I never really grasped how far I've come as a writer until I started this project on a whim. Most of my returning readers will be far more familiar with Kourubi, but I hope you love Kolby -- my original crow child -- just as much.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby Scott was beginning to question if the universe just kind of hated her. There was no other reason the sky had to open up and rain the mother of all thunderstorms down on her just as her bus pulled up to her stop. It was just so unnecessary. Didn’t help that she had to walk a whole two blocks to get home from her stop. Her socks were already soaked, and her jeans were getting there. Her umbrella wasn’t helping much; it could only really protect her backpack. At least her homework wasn’t getting ruined. </p>
<p>She passed by the neighborhood park, all but abandoned in the torrential downpour, which meant she was almost home. She sighed in relief. Or, at least, she was going to. Instead, the sigh came out as a scream as lightning struck the ground not a foot away from her. Her nose filled with the scent of burning ozone; a chill went down her back even as she felt heat rise from her belly. It was a strange sensation, and she felt petrified by it. </p>
<p>She didn’t know how long she remained frozen in place, eyes focused on the burnt grass where the lightning had struck, but slowly, she found she was able to move again. Every twitch sent sparks of static running through her skin. It didn’t quite hurt like static usually did, but it was unnerving just the same. </p>
<p>By the time she finally made it home, she was soaked up to her knees from standing in the rain. Her mother expressed concern at how long it took her to return, but Kolby didn’t have an excuse for her. One would think that seeing lightning strike so close would send a person running, but for Kolby, it’d done the exact opposite. It confused her. </p>
<p>Her brain felt fuzzy. She didn’t get struck, did she? No, there was no way. She’d be in a hell of a lot more pain if she had been, if she’d even survived. Lord, she was glad that she hadn’t been struck. She couldn’t even imagine the pain that would have caused her mother. </p>
<p>Her mother stared at her, concern evident, and asked her if she was alright. Kolby heard her, but her brain lagged, like a computer bogged down with viruses. Her mother ended up repeating the questions two more times before she was finally able to muster some kind of response. Kolby shrugged, passing it off to probably catching a cold walking in the rain. She couldn’t tell if her mother bought it, and her mother sent her to her room to change, demanding she get out of her soaked clothes immediately.</p>
<p> Kolby nodded, moving sluggishly down the hall towards her room. Her pajamas were warm and soft, but her hair sparked with static as she pulled them over her head. Her hands were freezing as she rubbed them along her goosebump-covered arms, but at her core she felt like she was burning up. She flopped onto her bed, her vision going fuzzy when her eyelids refused to remain open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fog filled the edges of Kolby’s vision. Cold, green water came up to her knees all around her. Walking was nearly impossible as her feet sunk deeper into the mud with each step. A tall, imposing tree towered in the distance, its branches devoid of leaves.</p>
<p>The numerous nooses didn’t leave a lot of room for leaves, it seemed. </p>
<p>She stared in horror as three women were dragged up onto a makeshift platform under the tree. Their hair and clothing were ragged and torn. Their faces were bruised, and one looked like her lip had been split recently. They looked emaciated, like they hadn’t eaten in months. A man in old pilgrim-style clothing spoke authoritatively, though Kolby could only hear the tone of his voice, not the words he spoke. A young boy cried, held by an old, feeble-looking man, reaching small hands out to one of the women. </p>
<p>The authoritative man stepped down from the platform. Then, to Kolby’s utter horror, he kicked it over.</p>
<p>Lightning crackled through the dark, cloudy sky as freezing rain came down on her and the tree caught aflame. She sank into the stagnant water of the marsh as three voices whispered the only words she could understand.</p>
<p>“Sleep, young one, for We Sisters Three will keep you safe.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And When the Worry Starts to Hurt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby woke with a start, falling out of bed when she heard something topple to the floor. She noticed, belatedly, that her back felt heavy, and something dark followed her as she fell. She sat on the floor between her bed and the window, panting heavily as she took stock of everything. She reached out to the side, reaching for whatever it was that followed her. It was hard to see -- it was the middle of the night at this point, and the only light she had was what little leaked in through her blinds -- so she had to rely on touch until her eyes adjusted. </p><p>The things moved with her, and she felt the muscles of her back shift in an alien way. Her fingertips touched feathers, which jolted away from her touch even as she flinched back from them. Feathers? </p><p>She lifted the blinds behind her just enough to let a little more light in, and stared, in utter shock, at the sight. </p><p>Wings -- large and midnight black -- hovered around her. She could feel the weight of them on her shoulder blades, could feel the feathers tickling at the skin of her arms. </p><p>“What the fuck?!” she hissed, hoping that her parents hadn’t heard her knock over...whatever it was she knocked over. She could not have her parents barging in right now. The hell would she say to them? ‘Sorry, mum and dad, looks like your daughter is going through a whole new kind of puberty.’ Not likely. </p><p>How did she get wings? Why did she get wings? Had she...had she actually gotten struck by lighting? No. Definitely not. She saw the burnt grass. And she wasn’t in any pain. And lightning strikes definitely left scars, she’d seen them online. </p><p>But...what if she had? Maybe she had been hit by some stray arc. Maybe instead of dying, it had awakened something in her. That was a common superhero origin, wasn’t it? That and, like, radiation or being from another planet. She definitely wasn’t an alien, at least. She’d seen her nasty, just-pulled-from-the-womb pictures more than once. Hard to fake that sort of thing if you were an alien adopted by an unwitting, childless couple. </p><p>Kolby shook her head, attempting to physically chase those thoughts away. She couldn’t get distracted now. Figuring out how to get rid of these wings, or at least hide them, needed to be her first priority right now. She reached back, feeling at the place where feathers met human skin. There was no blood, or at least no wetness, that she could tell. That meant there wasn’t a wound or anything, right? It was almost as if something had just...slapped a set of wings on her. But she could feel their movements in the muscles on her back -- and the giant holes they tore into the ratty, old t-shirt she wore to bed. </p><p>The whole thing was so disconcerting. Kolby felt tears of fear and disbelief gather at the corners of her eyes, her throat tightening painfully. She hated this. Why did this have to happen to her?  </p><p>She shrunk into herself, curling into a ball and letting the tears fall on her knees. They felt strangely cold and hard, like tiny hailstones. Even stranger, they hissed against her skin, like oil on a frying pan. She felt the twitchy, wild desire to bolt for it. But, at the same time she wanted to hide away, and let herself wallow in her misery. Even still, she wanted to scream and roar her revenge against the universe that had transgressed against her so cruelly. Three different voices shrieked unintelligible demands in the distant, unknown corners of her mind. The cold and the hot warred inside her chest, leaving her short of breath as she tried to contain her sobs. </p><p>Static sparked along her skin, and Kolby gasped as the muscles in her back spasmed.The twitching flowed out from there, rattling her limbs. Her legs kicked out wildly, and she wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into the flesh of her biceps.  She hissed at the unnatural sensation of something moving under her skin. She felt the feathers brush against her back before disappearing into it, like a parasite burrowing into her flesh. Her tears came quicker now as panic set in. What was happening? </p><p>She bit her lip and rose to her knees, fighting back the frightened whimper that threatened to leak out. It didn’t hurt, per se, but that didn’t make it any less frightening or confusing. Kolby hadn’t even realized how tense her whole body was until the wings finished retreating into her back. She fell forward, suddenly limp, her head coming to rest on the edge of her mattress. She could already feel how wet the fabric was getting from her tears. </p><p>Voices that she felt in her heart more than she heard with her ears whispered to her. There were three of them, similar yet distinct from each other. They sounded familiar, but Kolby couldn’t place where she’d heard them.Were these the ghosts that shrieked in her mind mere moments ago? No, they couldn’t be. They were too gentle, too kind. The voices whispered soft reassurances, and promises of protection. She felt soothed by their words, and as she drifted off to sleep, she thought she saw three sets of eyes watching over her -- one pair red, one pair yellow, and one pair blue.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Oh, It's Not Tonight That I'm Set Alight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby woke to her alarm going off on the other side of the room. Weird, normally it was right next to her on her dresser. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her neck and back. It was at that moment that she realized she was kneeling on the floor. The events of the night before came rushing back to her as she attempted to get to her feet, pins and needles pricking her skin as she moved. Yup, kneeling all night long was not a good idea. Good to know. </p><p>She climbed over her bed, grabbing her phone from the floor on the other side. So, it hadn’t been a dream. She reached back, finding nothing but skin and torn fabric where there’d once been feathers. Her mind raced. There were still so many questions -- how and why being the ones her brain screamed the loudest. </p><p>Well, she wasn’t going to get any answers laying in bed. She shut off her alarm, making her way out of her room to prepare for the day. Her mother, who was just... always awake way too early, met her in the hallway.</p><p>“You’re not going to school today,” her mother said plainly. “You slept all yesterday afternoon. Something is clearly wrong with you. I’m calling the school, so go back to bed.”</p><p>“Mum, I slept like sixteen hours at this point,” Kolby argued. “I feel fine.” </p><p>“Sweetheart, we couldn’t wake you at all,” her mother said, concern heavy in her words. “Believe me, we tried. If you didn’t wake up for school this morning, we were going to take you to the hospital. I don’t want to take any chances today. Please, if you’re not going to go rest in bed, at least just hang out on the couch so I can keep an eye on you.” </p><p>Kolby frowned. Her mother was right, something was wrong. But it certainly wasn’t anything a hospital could help with. Still, it wasn’t like she actually wanted to go to school today. It was more that she wanted something to distract her from the insanity from the night before. </p><p>“Okay,” she agreed. “But can I at least take a shower first? I went to bed with wet hair and it feels nasty now.” </p><p>Her mother nodded, already moving to the phone. “Go ahead. I’ll call the school while you’re in there.” </p><p> </p><p>Kolby savored the steaming hot water as it cascaded over her skin. It was worlds different from the freezing rain from the day before. She wished rain could be like a shower; it’d be far more pleasant that way.</p><p>“Pretty sure the plants wouldn’t be too happy though,” she muttered to herself. </p><p>Absently, she reached over her shoulder to touch at the spot where the wings had melded with her skin. She still couldn’t feel any evidence of her wings. She couldn’t even begin to understand what was happening to her. It was confusing and frustrating and … other words that meant the same thing as those two words. </p><p>She sighed, leaning her forehead against the fogged glass of the shower. Her brain was so muddled she couldn’t even come up with more than two words to describe the situation. If only she had someone she could talk to.</p><p>Kolby felt a flood of sudden loneliness fill her heart. She really didn’t have anyone she could talk to about this. There was no way she could burden her parents with this. And she didn’t exactly have a lot of friends, certainly none who would understand what she was going through. And it wasn’t like there was a metahuman hotline to call up. Even if there was, she probably wouldn’t trust it. </p><p>Odd, Kolby thought as her mind came back to the present, did it get colder in here? She moved her head away from the glass only to shriek and stumble back, nearly slipping and falling. The entire glass wall of the shower had been covered in a thin layer of frost. That...that had to be because of her. There was no other explanation. </p><p>Great, not only did she have wings, but ice powers. What was she? A snowy owl? Well, no definitely not. One: snowy owls didn’t make snow, and two: her wings had been black. </p><p>“Kolby?” she heard her father call tiredly through the door. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, Dad, sorry. I just…thought I saw a spider.” </p><p>“Must have been a big spider.” Her dad didn’t sound totally convinced.</p><p>“Huge,” she said. “But it was just a weird shadow. Sorry.”</p><p>“If you say so.” </p><p>He didn’t say anything else, so Kolby assumed he left. She sighed, running a hand through her wet hair. The frost was already pretty much gone thanks to the heat of the shower. Good; she didn’t need her parents finding that shit and asking questions. </p><p> </p><p>After leaving the shower, Kolby sat in her room in nothing but a towel for far longer than she really should have. She had long since given up trying to wrap her head around what was going on. Her life was a dumpster fire, that was really the only explanation for any of this. </p><p>“What am I going to do?” she muttered.</p><p>She jumped at the knock on her door, calming when she heard her mother’s voice through the painted wood.</p><p>“Kolby, are you about dressed?” </p><p>“Almost,” she lied, standing to finally figure out what she wanted to laze around in today.</p><p>“Well, I’ve got a kettle on so you can make yourself some tea,” her mother said. “Do you want anything in particular for breakfast?”</p><p>Kolby tugged on a dark tank top to go with the grey sweatpants she’d chosen for the day. Properly dressed, she opened the door to give her mother a sheepish look.</p><p>“Can you go get bagels?”</p><p>Her mother looked concerned for a moment. “Will you be alright by yourself? Your father’s just about to leave for work and the bagel place is all away across town…”</p><p>“Mum, I’m sixteen years old, I think I can be alone for like, half an hour while you run and get bagels,” Kolby said, a little offended. “Just because I have Sleepy Bitch Disease doesn’t mean I’m incapable of taking care of myself.”</p><p>“Don’t use that kind of language when you talk about yourself,” her mother scolded absently. She sighed, realizing that she really didn’t have an argument. Kolby, at least on the surface, seemed just fine despite the extraordinarily heavy sleep she fell into the day before. </p><p>“Alright, I’ll go get bagels. Asiago cheese?”</p><p>“With the full fat cream cheese!” Kolby called as her mother walked away. “None of that wimpy low fat stuff!” </p><p>“It’ll go to your hips!” her mother called back.</p><p>“My hips could use the padding,” Kolby argued. “Maybe it’ll hurt less when I get shoved to the ground during PE!” </p><p>She wandered out into the house not long after her mom left, searching out that kettle her mom mentioned putting on for her. She found it, with just a moment or so to spare, sitting next to her favorite mug. Her mother had picked it up at an art fair she’d gone to on a whim -- the ravens painted on it were just as beautiful now as they were when she first brought it home for Kolby. Though, given the circumstances, the sight of the painted black wings filled her with unease. </p><p>Nothing a good cup of tea and the distracting twitter algorithm couldn’t chase away. She pulled a masala chai tea bag from the cupboard, readying it in her mug just as the kettle started to scream. She removed the kettle from its little hot plate, and poured the steaming water into her mug. She set the timer on her phone to let the tea steep, noting with no small amount of annoyance that her phone was almost dead. Well, she figured, she hadn’t been able to charge it yesterday after school. Didn’t make it any less annoying. </p><p>She felt that strange sensation of static running under her skin once again. Then, she watched in shock as the charging icon popped up on her battery, and her phone began charging far faster than it ever did when she plugged it in. Ice and lightning powers? Plus the wings? What was she? Some kind of bastard lovechild of the Weather Wizard and Hawkgirl?</p><p>Her incredulous thoughts distracted her for a moment too long, and her oh-so-helpful lightning powers ended up short circuiting her phone. The damn thing caught on fire! </p><p>“SHIT!” Kolby shouted, throwing her phone down on the counter. In a panic, she began slapping at the tiny flame with her bare hands, only barely registering the heat clawing its way up from her belly. She shrieked as the flame only got larger. She slammed her hand down on it one more time...only for the flame to follow her hand as she pulled away. </p><p>The flame sat in her hand, flickering just above her palm. She stared at it, eyes wide, trying to reboot her brain. She turned her hand over, watching the fire follow her palm and lick at the sides of her hand. The fire didn’t feel hot, just a comforting level of warm. She squeezed her hand into a fist experimentally, only for the fire to vanish under the pressure. </p><p>She looked back at her phone, which was no longer on fire, but was still very much destroyed. Well...that sucked. Sudden superpowers and a fried phone? The universe was clearly fucking with her at this point. Wait...how long had her tea been steeping?</p><p>“Goddammit.”</p><p> </p><p>When her mother returned, accompanied by delicious bagels slathered in rich cream cheese, Kolby felt really bad about breaking the news about her broken phone. </p><p>“What happened to it?” her mother demanded, looking at the fried phone.</p><p>“Well, uh, I think it might have gotten fried yesterday when I almost got struck by lighting,” Kolby muttered, stretching the truth as far as she could make it go.</p><p>“YOU WHAT?!” </p><p>Kolby flinched. “I didn’t get hit, mum, I promise! It was like, three yards away or whatever.”</p><p>“Then how did it fry your phone?” her mother demanded.</p><p>“I don’t know! It was like this when I woke up!”</p><p>That was definitely a lie, but Kolby wasn’t about to tell her mother she set her own damn phone on fire by overloading the battery with her brand-spanking-new lightning powers. She hid behind her mug of tea as her mother muttered under her breath. Kolby hoped she took the ‘nearly struck by lightning’ as an explanation for her weird behavior last night. Chalk it up to shock or whatever.</p><p>“We’ll have to tell your father about this,” she said after a moment. “I guess we’re taking a trip to the mall this weekend.” </p><p>Kolby glanced at the calendar that hung on the fridge. It was Friday. Convenient of her powers to manifest the day before a weekend. Thank you, universe, she thought, for this one nicety you’ve bestowed upon me. </p><p>She looked towards her mother, whose brows were furrowed in confusion. A question came to Kolby’s mind, and she couldn’t help but voice it.</p><p>“Mum?”</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart?”</p><p>“If I were a metahuman and had superpowers, would you want me to be a superhero?” </p><p>Her mother blinked owlishly at the question, her expression one of utter befuddlement. “Where did that come from?”</p><p>Kolby shrugged. “I dunno. One of those weird thoughts that pop up when you’re trying to sleep or taking a shower.”</p><p>“Huh, I’ve never had those,” her mother admitted, resting a hand against her cheek as she thought. </p><p>“Lucky,” Kolby muttered, taking a sip of her tea. </p><p>“Well,” her mother said, sitting at the table next to Kolby and taking her hand in a reassuring manner, “I suppose I would just hope you would want to use your powers to help people. If that means being a superhero, then that’s what that means. I’d be worried, of course, but I’d support you.” </p><p>Kolby squeezed her mother’s hand, feeling a little bit better about the whole thing. “Thanks, mum.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Follow me on social media, if you'd like!</p><p>
  <a href="https://thegreatestofgames.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/thecelticpanda">twitter</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I've Learned That Doves and Ravens Fly The Same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the dead of night, hours after anyone in their right mind had gone to bed, Kolby opened her window, pushed out the screen, and slipped out of her room. As much as she appreciated her mother’s theoretical support, she wasn’t about to put it to the test right now. Not until she was actually a hero first. What was the saying? ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission?’ She wasn’t sure how true that was, but she was banking on it for the time being. </p><p>Dressed in a racerback and the sweatpants from earlier, she jogged out onto the streets of her neighborhood. She stood for a moment at the corner of her street and the neighborhood’s main thoroughfare, contemplating her next move. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling a little paranoid. Atop her head sat a pair of old fit-over sunglasses that she’d ‘stolen’ from her grandfather when she was a child. She used to use them to play spy, so it felt fitting to use them now. It made seeing anything practically impossible, but that’s what street lamps were for, right? </p><p>She slipped them over her eyes, just in case. </p><p>Satisfied, she began focusing on the spot of her back where she had felt the feathers sink into her skin. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she called forth her wings. She felt cold along her spine, her muscles twitched as she felt something slip free. The soft tickling of feathers followed. The sensation was just as disconcerting as it had been the night before, but this time she wasn’t frightened. This time, it was on her terms. </p><p>She rolled her shoulders as her wings beat experimentally, getting used to the feeling. The wings were huge, a good ten feet from tip to base. There was no way they'd fully emerged the night before; she wouldn’t have been able to fit in her room. </p><p>She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet as her wings beat harder, and she found herself lifting off the ground. She could feel the effort her wings were putting in, her breath coming in pants as she climbed. </p><p>Once she got high enough that she wouldn’t crash into any residential rooftops, she let herself glide over the neighborhood and catch her breath. Hot air from the sun-warmed concrete carried her higher as it rose and cooled in the night. Or, she thought it was warm air from the concrete. It was pretty late at night, maybe it was something else helping her rise. She’d have to do some experimenting.</p><p>She pushed the sunglasses up atop her head as she soared, allowing her a better look at everything that was happening below. There were still a few cars on the road, third shift workers heading home or folks on a late night fast food run, but the town seemed relatively empty otherwise. It was almost surreal. </p><p>She landed on the roof of an apartment complex to allow herself to rest. She inhaled deeply, finding that the air smelled a little fresher several dozen feet up in the air. Or maybe it just because of how tired flying made her. She’d have to work on that. She wondered how weirded out her mother would be if she suddenly took up running as a hobby. She wasn’t necessarily fat, but she certainly wasn’t fit…</p><p>The sound of loud, drunken laughing pulled her from her thoughts. She looked down towards the parking lot, seeing a trio of men stumbling their way towards the building, following about ten feet behind two young women who were dressed for a party. Kolby tried to figure out how late it was, which was hard to do without her phone. She’d left the house at, what, two in the morning? She couldn’t have been out for much more than, like, twenty minutes. If that. What time did clubs close? Wait...why was she asking herself that? She didn’t go clubbing; she was a minor! </p><p>She focused back on the men, who didn’t look like the type who went clubbing (they were somewhere in their forties or fifties and dressed more for a bible study than for dancing), as they followed the women. </p><p>“Where are you going, sweetheart?” one of the men shouted after the women. “Let us walk you home.”</p><p>The women didn’t respond, picking up speed instead. </p><p>“Come back, darlin’, we just want to talk,” another man shouted. </p><p>“Leave us alone!” the younger of the two women shouted over her shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t be a bitch!” the first man shouted, spit flying from his mouth.</p><p>The third man, who walked faster than his compatriots, caught up with the women and grabbed the younger of the two. “I think you owe my friend an apology.”</p><p>Speaking before she thought things through, Kolby shouted, “I think you need to take your hands off her.”</p><p>Everyone stopped, looking around to see where the new voice had come from. Kolby took the opportunity to drop down, her wings slowing her fall, sliding her sunglasses back over her eyes. She thanked whatever higher power there was that the parking lot was well lit. </p><p>The man who’d grabbed the young woman jumped back, shouting in surprise. “What the fuck?”</p><p>“What kind of asshole thinks it’s okay to shout abuse at strangers like that?” Kolby demanded. “There’s no excuse for that kind of behavior. Back off!” </p><p>“Who does this bitch think she is?” the first man growled, glaring at Kolby.</p><p>Fuck, Kolby hadn’t even started thinking of a name for herself. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the older of the two women holding up her phone to record the encounter, something she’d probably already been doing when Kolby showed up. Smart lady. </p><p>A voice, familiar and soothing, echoed through her mind. The idea it brought with it was as good as any, and Kolby wasn’t about to look a gift muse in the mouth.</p><p>She extended her wings to their full potential, and they seemed larger than they had been before. She stared the men dead in the eye -- or as well as she could given she couldn’t see their faces in detail-- and spoke with confidence she didn’t recognize.</p><p>“I am the Morrigan, goddess of war and fate, and I am here to defend these young women from pigs like you.” </p><p>“Goddess, huh?” the third man sneered, walking closer. “I don’t believe in any goddesses.” He reached out and tugged at the strap of Kolby’s tank top. “But I can be persuaded.”</p><p>Faster than she thought possible, Kolby reached up and snatched the man’s wrist. “Don’t fucking touch me.”</p><p>She squeezed, and felt the manic static run under her skin. Arcs of electricity jumped across her skin as the man yelped, his body seizing as she pumped volts through his veins. He stumbled back when she released him, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. </p><p>“Men like you leave a bad taste in my mouth,” Kolby said disdainfully. “Thinking yourself predators, you prey on those you think are defenseless, but in reality you’re cowardly bottomfeeders. I wouldn’t feed your corpses to the most filthy of scavengers.”</p><p>“You talk a big game for a scrawny little whore!” the first man shouted, running forward. Kolby wasn’t sure if he meant to tackle her or what, but he didn’t get the chance.</p><p>She pulled forth the lonely cold, feeling the frost fill her lungs. The cold followed her veins down to her fists, and when she threw a punch, tiny bullets of ice went flying from the air around it. The man yelped as the frozen bullets of water pelted his face and body, and he stumbled back in surprise. Kolby took her chance, running forward with wings tucked tight against her back, and landed a solid punch to his gut. She reached up, grabbing his arm, and -- with strength she didn’t realize she had-- she threw him over her shoulder. He landed on the ground with a wheeze. </p><p>The second man, who had been a mostly-silent observer up until this point, came up behind and wrapped his arms around her middle, hoping to stop her from doing any more damage.</p><p>Stupid man.</p><p>Heat clawed at her belly like a wild beast, radiating out through her skin until it felt like her entire being was set alight. She focused the heat on her back, in the gap between her wings. The man holding her screamed as he stumbled back, his shirt and beard set aflame. </p><p>The men watched in horrified awe as Kolby held out her hand, calling the fire back to her. The flames flickered and danced in her palm, and she smirked at the men.</p><p>“Are you persuaded?”</p><p>The men screamed, the sound shrill and pathetic, and scrambled to their feet to run the opposite direction. They cashed into several cars on their way, causing a chorus of cacophonous alarms to pierce the night air.</p><p>Kolby closed her hand over the fire, extinguishing it. A job well done, she thought. She turned to the women, her expression softer to soothe their nerves (though she couldn’t really tell how well it came across given her sunglasses covered half her face.</p><p>“Are you alright?” she asked.</p><p>The older woman nodded, still holding up her phone. The younger woman said nothing, simply staring at her with a slack jaw. </p><p>Kolby smiled. “Good. You guys get home. I’ll be around in case they come back.”</p><p>The woman with the phone nodded again, pulling the younger woman with her as she began backing up towards the apartment building. </p><p>“Th-thank you!” the younger woman shouted, finally coming back to herself. </p><p>Kolby waved, smiling. “Take care!” </p><p>She beat her wings, leaving the women slack-jawed once again as she took off into the night air. </p><p> </p><p>Deep underground Gotham, Bruce Wayne’s attention was drawn to a late night upload with a very interesting title. </p><p>“New superhero just saved our asses.”</p><p>Bruce didn’t even bother to watch the whole thing before he started scrubbing through the footage to find the perfect screenshot for his face recognition software. It didn’t take the program long to pull up a school ID. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating, before picking up his communicator.</p><p>“Nightwing. It’s Batman. I have a job for you. You’re heading for Texas.” He paused for a moment, debating with himself. “Take Robin with you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clark wasn’t really one to pay attention to the interns that made their way through the Daily Planet every fall. He preferred to do his own work rather than pass tasks off to stressed out college students. And he’d rather not bother some poor soul about getting him coffee when he had two perfectly functioning legs.</p>
<p>However, this time, one of the interns had caught his eye.</p>
<p>It started when she actually turned up for a staff meeting. Most interns avoided them, as it allowed them to take a substantial break from their duties. Clark imagined that it would have been fairly intimidating for them if they did turn up. But there she was, camera bag at her hip and legal pad in hand, ready to take everything in. </p>
<p>Then, when Perry brought up the paper’s new online subscription model, the intern raised her hand to speak. </p>
<p>“Sir?” </p>
<p>Perry’s eyes snapped in her direction, apparently he hadn’t noticed her previously. Still, he seemed pleased by her attendance. “What’s your name again, kid?”</p>
<p>“Aria Merlo, sir,” she replied, and Clark was mildly impressed when her voice didn’t shake like most interns when first dealing with Perry White. </p>
<p>“Alright, Merlo, what have you got for me?” </p>
<p>“A suggestion, and it might be a pretty wild one, sir.”</p>
<p>Perry waved his hand in a ‘get on with it’ motion. </p>
<p>Aria sat up a little straighter, as if bracing herself for backlash. “We shouldn’t limit the number of free articles on our website.” </p>
<p>Perry’s eyes narrowed as a few of the more senior staff either laughed at the suggestion or started whispering amongst themselves about losing money. “And why’s that?”</p>
<p>“We live in a time of unprecedented divide among the public, sir,” Aria explained. “And while most of the best online sources for news -- The New York Times, The Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune -- all limit the number of articles that can be read for free, the so-called ‘news organizations’ that keep their articles free are the ones that are most likely to rip our country apart. How are we going to reach the people if we lock them out for not having ten bucks to spare on a monthly subscription? If democracy dies in the darkness, then it will be a darkness of our own making with this current business model.” </p>
<p>The room fell silent. Even those who had been laughing couldn’t bring themselves to chuckle at the blatant idealism. </p>
<p>“That’s all well and good,” Perry admitted. “But the newspaper industry is dying, and we need to keep ourselves afloat somehow. If we aren’t requiring subscriptions to read our articles, then how are we supposed to make money?”</p>
<p>“You can still have a subscription service,” Aria said. “You can hide nonessentials behind the subscriptions -- things like the crossword. You could also slap ads all over the website and say that a subscription will remove the ads. Believe me, people will pay to not have advertisements thrown in their face. Pull from the Buzzfeed model and have sponsored articles about someone’s book or the ‘top fifteen things you need to buy for a pick-me-up’. Have a series of behind-the-scenes videos for subscribers. There are ways of making money. You just have to think outside your outdated box.”</p>
<p>She paused, reconsidering her words. “And I say that with the utmost respect for the work this company has done, sir.” </p>
<p>Perry waved his hand. “You aren’t wrong, kid. But I can’t just up and change our whole policy based on the speech of one confident intern.”</p>
<p>Aria nodded. “Understandable. I simply wanted you to consider it, Mr. White.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the meeting adjourned, Clark found himself with a face-full of one Aria Merlo. She gripped her bag straps tightly in white-knuckled fists, and he could practically hear her psyching herself up in her head.</p>
<p>“Mr. Kent, I have a proposition for you.” </p>
<p>Clark heard Jimmy and Lois chuckling behind him, but decided it was for the best if he ignored them. “And what would that be, Miss Merlo?”</p>
<p>“Aria, please,” she insisted. He could feel the heat radiating off her, especially as her face turned progressively pinker. “I’m a photography student at Metropolis Institute of Art, sir. And this semester, for one of my classes, my professor is requiring a ‘recurring model’. He says it’s important to learn how to build working relationships with people, and also that the easiest way to see our improvement is to see how we learn to work with the same subject in newer, more creative ways. And, sir, I think I want you to be my model!” </p>
<p>Now it was Clark’s turn to turn pink. That was the last place he expected this conversation to go. A model? Him? Jimmy and Lois went quiet behind him, clearly just as surprised as he was.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” he asked, uncertain what to think. </p>
<p>Aria nodded emphatically. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. If you have questions, we can discuss it later. I have class later today, but we can meet up for dinner if you’d like? We can discuss compensation for your time, if necessary. I know students get credit towards graduation, but I’m sure there’s something that can be worked out with -- “</p>
<p>“Aria, please,” Clark said, holding up a hand. He felt a little bad for interrupting, but Aria seemed to be a bit of a rambler. “I’d never ask you to pay me for something like that.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Aria said, nodding sheepishly.</p>
<p>“Please, you can just call me Clark,” he assured her gently. “What time do you get out of class? I’ll pick you up and we can talk about it.”</p>
<p>Aria looked a bit dumbstruck that he’d actually agreed to it, or at least that he agreed to discuss it. Her smile was sweet, and a little shy -- a marked difference from her stiff demeanor earlier. </p>
<p>“I get out of class at 5:30 today,” she said, shifting her camera bag on her shoulder. “I can meet you at the MART train stop on campus. The green line hits both stops without you needing to change over. You know, now that I think about it, I wonder if they named it the green line because one of the school colors is green. The only other line that stops there is the gold line, and that’s our other school color…”</p>
<p>“I’ll see you at 6, then,” Clark said, interrupting once again. Seemed that Aria had a bit of a rambling problem. “Or at least as close to then as I can manage. Can’t always tell with public transportation, you know.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, I understand.” Aria glanced away, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. She glanced back up at him after a moment, smiling shyly. “I’ll see you then.”</p>
<p>She turned and left, and Clark could tell there was an extra spring in her step. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aria was true to her word, meeting Clark when he stepped off the train at 6:13 later that evening. She greeted him with that same bright-but-shy smile she’d given him earlier. She waited until the crowd had passed through before speaking, lest she have to shout.</p>
<p>“Are you hungry? There’s a pizza place not too far from campus that has, like, the best calzones ever. And it takes my student meal plan, which is seriously dangerous, let me tell you. I’d have every meal there if all my classes weren’t on the opposite side of campus. Or we can have something else, if you’re not feeling Italian. There’s a whole bunch of good spots to eat around here. And we don’t only have to go somewhere that takes my meal plan, I’ve got some cash to spare. It’s no big deal.” </p>
<p>“Calzones sound pretty good, actually,” Clark said, jumping in before she could take off with the rambling once again. It was honestly pretty endearing, but Clark could tell -- given her elevated heart rate and the pink color of her cheeks -- that this was clearly something she was doing out of nerves. He hoped she learned how to be comfortable around him soon. He’d be pretty devastated if she had some kind of heart attack because of him. </p>
<p>The walk to the restaurant was short; the place was just about a block or so from the campus station. It looked like a fairly standard hole-in-the-wall place, but the smell of it was phenomenal, even from outside the door. It was packed with students from not just Aria’s school but the Metropolis College of Science and Technology just a few blocks north. Students mingled and chatted over slices of pizza and bottles of locally-brewed beer. A few nursed paper cups full of house-made soda as they worked on papers and other assignments. Clark liked the atmosphere of the place. </p>
<p>The hostess settled them at a table near the back. It was cozy and a little dark -- all the better-lit tables were taken over by students with piles of papers and books. Aria went immediately digging through her backpack, not even bothering to look at the menu.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty impressed that a place like this is on the student meal plan,” Clark said conversationally. </p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” Aria said, “As long as I don’t get more than 12 bucks worth of food and drink, the university covers tax and 15% tip. I mean, given what they charge in tuition, they better buy us good food.” </p>
<p>Clark chuckled a little. “I guess you already know what you want?”</p>
<p>Aria pulled out a folder, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I get the same thing basically every time I’m here.” </p>
<p>“Well, then it must be good,” Clark said, flipping the one-page menu over to check out the salads.</p>
<p>The waitress came back not long after with two glasses of water. “You two ready to order?” </p>
<p>“I think we are,” Clark said. “Aria?”</p>
<p>“Chicken alfredo calzone,” Aria said, passing over her menu without even glancing at it. “No mushrooms, please. And whatever the soda of the day is.”</p>
<p>“Black cherry and vanilla cream,” the waitress said, smirking at Aria. “Which I’m pretty sure you knew since you never order the soda of the day unless it’s either that one or the orange and basil soda.”</p>
<p>“If you don’t watch out, I’ll tell your roommate you were mean to me,” Aria threatened jokingly. “I still have their number from our group project. It wouldn’t be hard.” </p>
<p>“Don’t you dare,” the waitress -- who Clark was quickly realizing was a schoolmate of Aria’s -- chided. “Last time you tattled on me, they made me listen to Baby Shark for an hour!” </p>
<p>Aria simply flashed her a Cheshire Cat grin. </p>
<p>The waitress rolled her eyes and turned to Clark. “And what can I get you?”</p>
<p>Clark smiled, handing over his menu. “I’ll have what she’s having.” </p>
<p>The waitress eyed him, and Clark hadn’t been sized up so blatantly since he first joined the Daily Planet. If she knew Aria as well as she seemed to, she was probably wondering what he was doing here with her.</p>
<p>“I’ll get that started for you,” she said, turning on her heels with a dancer’s grace. </p>
<p>“Is she a friend of yours?” Clark asked.</p>
<p>“We were floormates freshman year,” Aria explained. “She and her roommate would invite me over for anime nights since my roommate was kind of...not nice and didn’t bother talking to me like ever once she found other people to hang out with. I guess they thought I was lonely.”</p>
<p>Clark frowned at the matter-of-fact way she spoke. “Were you lonely?”</p>
<p>Aria paused, her thumbs rubbing at the folder she’d pulled out earlier. “Probably.”</p>
<p>Clark wasn’t quite sure what that meant. And Aria didn’t give him time to fully process it before she was pulling out a small packet of paper from her folder.</p>
<p>“Anyway, this is the schedule for the semester.” She lay the packet on the table and began pointing to each line in turn as she explained them. “I need to have my model picked and the paperwork done by this coming Monday. After that, we have biweekly photo sessions with different prompts.” She stopped, looking up at him seriously. “I have to tell you, so that you may make a fully-informed decision, that there is a nude photo set required for this class. I understand completely if you’re not comfortable with that, but I can promise you that you would be treated with the utmost dignity and respect by me, my professor, and my peers.” </p>
<p>Clark sat back in his chair. That, if nothing else, was a tall order to ask of anyone. “Who are your classmates asking?” </p>
<p>“Other students, mostly,” Aria answered. “Dancers and actors, generally, or their significant others.”</p>
<p>“And what made you want to photograph me?” Clark asked.</p>
<p>Aria leaned in, smiling the smile of someone who just got asked to explain their passion project. “Mr. Kent, you are, aesthetically speaking, perfection. But, more importantly than that, you’re approachable. I want to play on the contrast of a strikingly beautiful model and the soft approachability of your down home goodness. I can think of nothing more creatively stimulating.” </p>
<p>Clark felt heat rise to his cheeks. That hadn’t been anything close to what he was expecting. His mother had told him he was handsome several times in his life, but to have put like that was...beyond flattering. Perfection? Him?</p>
<p>“What’s this I hear?” their waitress asked as she walked over with their food. “You better not be creatively stimulating all over our tables.”</p>
<p>“Layla, oh my god!” Aria groaned, hiding her face in her hands. </p>
<p>Clark just smiled beatifically as Aria and the waitress -- Layla, apparently -- squabbled quietly. He was fairly sure Layla was trying to make a sexual joke out of Aria’s passionate speech, and he certainly didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. The last thing he wanted to do was make Aria feel bad after she said such nice things about him. </p>
<p>Layla wandered off after a moment, sticking her tongue out at Aria as she left.</p>
<p>“Ignore her,” Aria muttered to Clark. “She’s the worst.” </p>
<p>“If it makes you feel better, I think she’s worried about you,” Clark said. “She sized me up pretty seriously when we first arrived.” </p>
<p>Aria rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Back to business.” </p>
<p>Aria continued explaining the class and the schedule, and Clark listened dutifully. Some things about the whole endeavor made him a little nervous -- the nude photo specifically. How embarrassing would it be if that got around? Not only would he hear it from everyone at the Daily Planet, there was no way anyone in the Justice League who knew his identity would let him live it down. But then again, these weren’t the same kind of photos that usually got people in trouble, they were art pieces. And besides, from what Clark could tell, Aria didn’t have anyone else she’d ask for this. She was dead set on working with him. </p>
<p>“Do I have to sign anything?” Clark asked.</p>
<p>Aria stared at him for a moment, processing his question. She slipped through to the last page of the packet. “Just here. Basically it’s you giving your permission to have your images used in this class, and potentially in my portfolio.” She looked him dead in the eye. “I’d never use any photo you’re not comfortable with in my portfolio.”</p>
<p>Clark smiled. “I believe you. Do you have a pen?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Introducing our second heroine: Aria Merlo~</p>
<p>Follow me on social media: </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/thecelticpanda">on twitter @thecelticpanda </a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://thegreatestofgames.tumblr.com/">on tumblr as thegreatestofgames</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. These Accidents of Faith and Nature Tend to Stick in the Spokes of You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clark was in the middle of a conversation with Lois about a particular line in her article when his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, surprised. He didn’t usually get texts, especially not in the middle of the day. Lois eyed him suspiciously, knowing he didn’t exactly have a whole lot of friends outside of work (or at least, no public friends). </p>
<p>It was Aria, informing him of their scheduled studio time: Sunday at 4. She had them for a two hour block, she said in the next text. They could get dinner afterwards. </p>
<p>“What are you smiling about?” Lois asked, turning in her desk chair and crossing her arms. Lois didn’t like not being in the know, Clark had long since learned. </p>
<p>“Oh, nothing much. I’m helping Aria with her school project, is all.” </p>
<p>“She’s actually using you for a model?” Lois asked incredulously. “She has strange taste.”</p>
<p>Clark frowned. It wasn’t the first time Lois had talked down to him, far from it. She played up the Big City Girl vs. Country Boy dynamic a lot, especially in his early years at the Daily Planet. Usually Clark could brush her off pretty easily, but today he couldn’t quite ignore her statement. </p>
<p>“That’s a rather rude thing to say, Ms. Lane.”</p>
<p>Clark turned, finding Aria standing behind him, phone in hand. Seemed to be she’d been waiting on Clark to respond while coming up the elevator. Why she hadn’t just waited until she was here to tell Clark the schedule, he wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Lois snapped, clearly taken aback by Aria calling her out.</p>
<p>“You implied two things with your statement just now,” Aria said, holding up a fist in a demonstrative fashion. “First” -- she held up her index finger -- “You implied that I am, in some way, deviant for wanting to use Clark as a model for my course. Second” -- she held up her middle finger now -- “You implied that Clark is somehow lacking, or even ugly, and therefore a poor choice as a model. Both of these things are very rude, Ms. Lane, and you should apologize to both me and Mr. Kent.”</p>
<p>Clark stood stock still between the two women, wondering what would happen next. He could feel the eyes of the other reporters and editors around them, watching and waiting like vultures. Lois, it seemed, was also well aware of the eyes on her. </p>
<p>She frowned deeply, her arms crossed even tighter across her chest. “I apologize.”</p>
<p>Clark glanced Aria’s way, waiting. Aria looked...dissatisfied, and Clark worried there was going to be a serious argument. </p>
<p>Instead, Aria shifted her camera bag on her shoulder and simply said, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” </p>
<p>Clark put his hand on Aria’s shoulder and steered her back towards his desk closer towards the elevators. “What was that about, Aria?”</p>
<p>“She was rude,” Aria said plainly. “And she needed to apologize. You are not lacking, no matter what Ms. Lane implies. No wonder you try to make yourself look so small, if she’s been treating you like this.” </p>
<p>Clark simply shook his head, deciding to change the subject. “How come you texted me when you were already on your way up? You could have just told me in person.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t work related,” Aria explained. “I figured it did not need to be talked about publicly. Besides, now you have the time in writing. It will be harder to forget this way.”</p>
<p>“That’s very considerate of you, Aria,” Clark said, rather surprised by her unexpected forethought. </p>
<p>Clark heard her heartbeat speed up a little at the compliment. “Thank you,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s very kind of you to say.”</p>
<p>Clark decided right then and there he was going to compliment Aria every chance he had, just to see her smile. He made to continue the conversation, but Jimmy came jogging over.</p>
<p>“Hey, Aria, mind if I get your help with an assignment?” </p>
<p>“Of course,” Aria agreed readily. She shot Clark a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll see you later, Clark.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aria glanced down at her phone, checking her meticulously-kept agenda to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything on her walk back from the Daily Planet. She needed to make sure she wasn’t cutting into any work time by walking back to her dorm instead of taking the train. She passed under the shadow of LexCorp tower just as she tucked her phone away. She stopped short when she felt something hit her head. Was that water? The strange shiver that went down her spine would certainly make her think so. But, when she touched the top of her head, she felt nothing. No wetness, no tenderness, no rising goose egg. </p>
<p>She looked up at the towering monolith of industry and unbridled capitalism, confused. And then angry because, you know, industry and unbridled capitalism. She muttered a few insults under her breath before moving on with her day, hoping the rest of her walk home in the crisp September air erased the momentary sour mood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Many hundreds of feet above the street, Superman looked through the broken window he’d crashed through not a moment ago to disrupt Lex Luthor’s plans, scanning the scene for any sign of the strange, magical crystal that Lex had somehow gotten his hands on.</p>
<p>“I don’t see it,” he said.</p>
<p>“What do you mean you don’t see it?!” Luthor demanded.</p>
<p>“I mean I don’t see it, Lex,” Superman reiterated. “It’s not there.”</p>
<p>As police carted Luthor off for what was probably the fifth time that year, the man muttered under his breath, “I didn’t even get to do anything yet!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter probably has my favorite line I've written for this fic lol See if you can guess it.</p>
<p>Follow me on social media:</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/thecelticpanda">twitter @ thecelticpanda</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://thegreatestofgames.tumblr.com/">tumblr @ thegreatestofgames</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Our Days are Numbered by Nights on Too Many Rooftops</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby was starting to feel pretty good about this whole superhero thing. </p><p>She’d been going at it for a little less than a month, but she felt like she was doing pretty well all things considered. Her first priority was getting an actual outfit to go superhero-ing in. Granted, it was just some modified workout gear, but it worked a lot better than whatever random tank top and sweatpants she threw on. It was pretty surprising how many black, long-sleeved, hooded workout tops had exposed backs (okay, there were like two on the market, but Kolby bought like, twelve of them). And technically those ‘exposed backs’ were just slits around the shoulder blades for...ventilation purposes(?) but they were a good place for Kolby to start cutting. Also, why had no one told her that yoga pants were so comfy? That was a crime against her specifically and she wouldn’t stand for it. </p><p>She’s started jogging, partially as an excuse to buy the new clothing, but also to help build her stamina for flying. She’d even managed to convince her friend to let her use their family’s gym membership. It was both a great way to jog (and workout in general) without dealing with Texas heat, and also a great excuse for getting out to patrol during the day. </p><p>People were starting to recognize her, sometimes kids would wave to her from the ground as she flew over. She made sure to smile and wave at them if she spotted them. She may be dressed in all black, but she certainly didn’t want kids to be scared of her. She’d caught people filming her as she flew over more than once, too.</p><p>The only thing she really felt like she was lacking was, well, the actual ability to deal with criminals. Sure, she had her powers, but it didn’t exactly look good if she gave normal, petty criminals frostbite or second degree burns while trying to stop them. She wasn’t the police, after all; excessive force wasn’t her style. It would be one thing if she had like, honest-to-god supervillains to deal with, but she didn’t. She lived in a small-but-not-really-small suburban town where the most dangerous crime the place had to deal with on a day-to-day basis was maybe car theft.  </p><p>Kolby sat atop one of the stripmall grocery stores, taking a short break from her patrol. The cool autumn breeze ruffled at her feathers, making her glad she’d started at all this in fall. Had she been running around in the middle of July in a black costume, she’d probably die of heatstroke.</p><p>“Note to self,” she muttered, patting at her thighs, “invest in pants with pockets for water bottle storage.” </p><p>The sound of a ruckus below pulled her from her thoughts. Leaning over the side of the building, she found a small gang of men harassing what appeared to be a pair of finely-dressed brothers.</p><p>“Just hand over your wallet, and we’ll be on your way,” one of the muggers said, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. </p><p>“Yeah, and throw in the keys to that fancy ass Ferrari you pulled up in, too,” another said, already pulling a switchblade out. </p><p>“C’mon, guys,” the older brother said, holding up his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”</p><p>“We don’t either,” the apparent leader of the muggers said. “So just give us the money.”</p><p>“And the keys,” a third mugger said. “Don’t forget the keys.” </p><p>“You’re even more idiotic than you look if you think we’re giving you anything,” the younger brother snapped.</p><p>Kolby winced. Bad move.</p><p>“What did you say, you little brat?” the leader snarled, pulling a handgun out of his hoodie pocket.</p><p>Right, Kolby thought, now it was time to step in. “The fuck do you think you’re doing pulling a gun on a kid?”</p><p>She dropped from the roof, landing hard on the shoulders of leader-mugger. She heard something crunch -- likely his collarbones, she thought -- and hid her wince under a smirk as she jumped off his shoulders. Leader-mugger fell down to the ground, his arms hanging limply at his sides. She immediately turned her attention to the gun on the ground, covering it with a thick layer of ice so no one could grab it. </p><p>“The fuck did you do to Ryan?” the mugger with the knife shouted.</p><p>“Broke something, clearly,” Kolby quipped. “You gonna be good friends and call 9-1-1?” </p><p>Knife-mugger screamed wordlessly, rushing at her with his aforementioned-knife brandished. Kolby flicked a marble of ice in between his eyes, the impact hard enough to knock him back and, if the bloody nose was any indication, break his nose. She hid another wince. So much for ‘excessive force wasn’t her style’. She’d have to work on that. Kolby turned to the third mugger, hands on her hips.</p><p>“Well?” </p><p>The mugger shuffled awkwardly, looking back and forth between his buddies and Kolby. “Fuck this, man. It ain’t worth it.” </p><p>Kolby rolled her eyes as the man ran off. She turned to the brothers. Or, at least she thought they were brothers. Now that she actually got a good look at them, it was hard to tell. Their hair and eyes were similar colors, but beyond that they had very little in common. </p><p>“You two alright?” she asked. “Also, do you have a phone I can use to call 9-1-1 for these guys?”</p><p>The older of the two pulled out a phone and tossed it her way. Kolby fumbled a bit, clap-catching the thing between her two hands. Not exactly ‘hero like’ but whatever. If they were going to mock her for her lack of coordination after saving their lives, that was their problem. She found it odd, however, that there wasn’t a passcode on the phone...nor any apps. </p><p>It was a strange phone. Despite its thinness, it felt hefty in her hand. The screen reflected a strange chromatic-oil-slick shine when the light hit it, almost as if it was made of a clear metal rather than glass or plastic. This didn’t look like any other phone on the market.She pushed that to the back of her mind as she dialled emergency services.</p><p>“9-1-1, what’s your location?” </p><p>Ah, it was her favorite 9-1-1 lady. “Hey Terri, it’s Morrigan. I’m next to the Tom Thumb on Alamo.”</p><p>“Who’d you beat up this time?” the older-sounding woman asked. </p><p>“Couple of muggers,” she said casually, nudging at knife-mugger’s leg with her foot. “One’s got at least a broken nose. I think I broke both collarbones on the other guy.”</p><p>“How’d you do that?” Terri asked, her voice rising in pitch in disbelief. </p><p>“Landed on his shoulders when I jumped off the Tom Thumb roof,” Kolby explained.</p><p>“Honey, what?!”</p><p>“He pulled a gun on a kid!” Kolby shouted, gesturing wildly with her free hand. </p><p>Terri sounded even more incredulous. “They were mugging a kid?”</p><p>Kolby glanced over at the supposed brothers. “Yes. Well, no. Not just a kid anyway. Even if they were, I think this kid is wearing Armani. Not that that’s an excuse, of course.” </p><p>“Oh, bless your heart,” Terri said, and Kolby imagined she was shaking her head in a fondly exasperated sort of way. “I’ve got police and fire/rescue headed your way. I assume you’re not going to stick around?”</p><p>“Probably not,” Kolby admitted. “I’ll see if I can’t get the targets to stay until they show up.”</p><p>“Good girl. You have a blessed day, now.”</p><p>Kolby hung up without saying anything else. She turned back to the man, holding out the phone. “Police and an ambulance should be on their way. You might want to stick around to give your statements.” </p><p>“Thanks,” the man said, flashing her a winning smile. “I didn’t think a small town like this would have a superhero like you.” </p><p>“Small town? This year’s graduating class is like, sixteen hundred kids,” Kolby argued mildly. “We’re a small city, thank you very much.”</p><p>“Very small,” the boy said. Kolby could feel the superiority complex radiating off of him in rays. “Especially compared to Gotham.” </p><p>“Well thank fuck for that,” Kolby muttered. No way in hell would she be able to do this in a place like Gotham. She’d probably have a mental breakdown within a week.</p><p>“C’mon, Damian, that’s not very nice,” the man said admonishingly. “That doesn’t mean she’s not doing her best.”</p><p>The boy, Damian apparently, rolled his eyes. Kolby felt herself doing the same thing.</p><p>“Y’all take care now,” she said, giving herself a running start and taking off into the sky before they could reply.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I wanna be king in your story, I wanna know who you are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby found herself on the same Tom Thumb roof the next night, sunglasses pushed back on top of her head as she watched the main road of her town for anything crazy. It would likely be another quiet night, like most nights. She wondered, sometimes, if she’d ever be prepared if something actually crazy happened, like an alien invasion or a supervillain attack. If things kept up the way they were, the answer would probably be ‘absolutely not’. But nothing crazy would happen in a town like this, to a girl like her. Besides the wing thing, anyway.</p><p>God, she was starting to sound like a girl from one of her mom’s Hallmark channel shows.</p><p>“Excuse me.”</p><p>Kolby yelped in surprise, whirling around to face whoever the Fuck just snuck up on her, completely forgetting to put her sunglasses back down in the process. Her jaw dropped when her eyes landed on two very recognizable figures. </p><p>Nightwing smiled winningly at her, raising a hand in greeting. “Sorry for the scare. I forget that not everyone can hear silent walking like Batman can.”</p><p>Kolby merely sputtered. Then, realizing her sunglasses were still on top of her head, she turned her back on Nightwing and Robin to replace them over her eyes.</p><p>“Don’t bother,” Robin said, his voice filling the air with a tangible sense of superiority. “We already know who you are.”</p><p>Kolby froze, her insides filled with a panicked chill. She glanced over her shoulder. “You do?”</p><p>Nightwing nodded, his smile taking on a sympathetic tone. “It’s a Bat thing. Don’t worry about the glasses, I bet you can’t see anything out of them at this time of night anyway.” </p><p>“And we’ve already seen your face,” Robin added. “So putting them on now is pointless.” </p><p>“Be nice,” Nightwing chided, nudging Robin with his elbow. </p><p>Kolby had no idea what was happening. Batman knew who she was? And had sent Nightwing and Robin to...what? Check up on her? That seemed silly. Arrest her? That also seemed silly. What would Batman gain from arresting a superhero in another city, especially one as small-time as her? </p><p>“What do you want?” she ended up asking, unsure of where else to start. </p><p>Nightwing approached her, and Kolby felt herself stiffen up.She had half a mind to bolt. No way those two could keep up with her with her flying, right? </p><p>Nightwing noticed her shift in posture, and he stopped, holding up his hands as a pacifying gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” </p><p>That didn’t exactly make Kolby feel better, but she had to admit she was probably being overly cautious. Nightwing was a good guy, a member of the Justice League, Batman’s protege. Surely he only had good intentions here.</p><p>And so, Kolby forced herself to relax. Nightwing seemed to notice the effort, rewarding her with another smile. </p><p>“Batman saw a video of you,” Nightwing explained, coming to stand next to Kolby. “He could tell you’re young and inexperienced, so he wanted us to come meet you and offer you some help.”</p><p>“Help?”</p><p>“Yeah. You know, training and stuff like that.” Nightwing held his hand out, offering it to her. “What do you say?”</p><p>Well, that was a broad and generous offer. Kolby couldn’t say she was against the idea of getting some goddamn help. Hell, she’d been saying so just the other day. But...she didn’t exactly have time for extensive training. She barely had time to schedule normal patrols in around all of the school work she had to do (curse her parents for placing her in all those advanced courses). Between heroing, studying, and working out, she didn’t even get the recommended amount of sleep most nights -- especially on the nights she did patrols. She was exhausted.</p><p>“I’d love to but…”</p><p>“But?” Robin snapped. “This is an offer from Batman himself, and you’re saying no?!”</p><p>“Kid, I know you won’t get this for another like, seven years, but being in high school is exhausting!” Kolby half-shouted, gesturing wildly with her hands. “I get maybe five hours of sleep a night if I’m lucky between homework and patrolling. I can’t add any more into that schedule; I’d go crazy from sleep deprivation. If Batman wants to put together a neat little summer internship, then I’d be more than happy to take him up on the offer. But the school year is out of bounds for me. Sorry!” </p><p>Robin marched forward, looking ready to argue, but Nightwing stepped between the two. He shot Robin a look that Kolby couldn’t read through the mask. She wondered how long it took for any of them to read looks through plastered-on masks like that. </p><p>“No, she’s right,” Nightwing said to Robin. “We didn’t stop to consider her other obligations. That was careless of us.” He turned back to Kolby. “We’ll come up with something that puts your needs into account, I promise. Batman isn’t about to give up on you just because of a few scheduling conflicts.”</p><p>Kolby felt tension drain from her shoulders, her wings shifting as they untucked themselves. She hadn’t even realized how closely she’d held her wings to her back in that moment. Still, the whole thing felt so odd to her. Why did Batman even care about her? Was it because she wore black and mainly did her hero work at night? Or did he just have a soft spot for kids? Considering the number of sidekicks he’d had through the years, that wasn’t exactly a hard sell. </p><p>She flinched out of her thoughts when Nightwing suddenly thrust something towards her. He held a phone in his hand. The streetlights bounced off the screen, the reflection having a strange, chromatic element to it...just like that phone the guy from before gave her to call 9-1-1. Wait a minute...</p><p>“You were those guys from the other day!” She shouted, pointing accusatorily at Nightwing. “The ones who were getting mugged!”</p><p>Nightwing grinned at her. “You figured that out from the phone? You’ll fit right in.”</p><p>“It’s a very distinct phone,” Kolby said. And it was -- not only did the screen have an unusual chromatic element to the way it reflected light, but the back had a strange, grippy texture to it without the use of a case. It was probably made of some super durable material. It would explain the heft she’d felt when she used it before.</p><p> She turned to Robin. “Damian, huh? Or was that a code name?”</p><p>“When the mask is on, it’s Robin,” Damian said testily.</p><p>“Alright, fair enough,” Kolby pacified. She took the phone Nightwing held out to her. “What’s this for?”</p><p>“This way, you don’t have to borrow a phone from every person you save,” he said. “Batman developed them; they tap directly into the Justice League’s satellite systems, so no one can call into it that isn’t already in the system. It’s great for casual, undercover contact. You know, since you look like you’re just talking on the phone. This way, you can call any of us if you need help.”</p><p>That was...really nice. Kolby really doubted that she’d need help from anyone in the League given how things usually were around here, but it was nice to have the option to call for help if she ever felt overwhelmed. </p><p>She shot Nightwing a smile. “Thanks. It’s...nice to not be so alone in this.” </p><p>Nightwing, apparently feeling bold with a young woman he’d just met, set a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Trust me, you’re never alone in this.”</p><p>The two bounded off over the rooftops not long after, insisting they’d be in touch soon.</p><p> </p><p>Turned out soon was sooner than Kolby expected. She first felt suspicious when she saw the sleek, black town car in front of her house when she arrived home from school. No one she or her parents knew would have a fancy car like that, and her parents definitely weren’t the type to buy such a thing. She narrowed her eyes at it as she passed it, watching it over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs towards her house. </p><p>She felt the suspicion grow when she heard her father’s laugh through the door. Her dad shouldn’t be home at this time of day. Why would he be home? Did something bad happen? Wait, if something bad had happened, why would he be laughing? Panic set in as her mind raced. Nightwing and Robin had met with her just last night! What if the Joker had followed them from Gotham? What if the Joker had followed her home after she met with them?! </p><p>She scrambled to unlock the door, fear sending sparks of static from her fingertips. She practically fell through the door as she finally got it opened, catching herself painfully in the stomach with the door handle. She closed her eyes and hissed in pain, cursing under her breath. </p><p>“Goodness, Kolby, are you alright?” her mother called, sounding perfectly fine. </p><p>“ ‘m fine,” she said through a groan. She opened her eyes to see her mother and father sitting together on the couch, absolutely unharmed. Okay then…</p><p>Her eyes flickered around the room, immediately finding two familiar figures standing next to the armchair: Nightwing and Damian. I can call him that now, she thought absently, he doesn’t have the mask on. From there, her gaze settled on the figure in the armchair.</p><p>Bruce Motherfucking Wayne.</p><p>Wait, Kolby thought as the cogs in her mind whirled fast enough that she probably had smoke coming out of her ears, if Nightwing is with Bruce Wayne then…</p><p>Holy shit, Bruce Wayne was Batman. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Kolby decided to ask before her silence and staring got weird.</p><p>“You tell me,” her dad said, his tone light and a bit jokey. “You’re the one applying for internships without telling me or your mum.”</p><p>“Oh...right.” She locked eyes with Bruce from across the room as she closed and locked the front door behind her. “I didn’t really think I had a chance, so I didn’t bother to bring it up.” </p><p>“Well, your luck paid off this time, Miss Scott,” Bruce said, his voice smooth and rich and absolutely dripping with lies. His smile seemed rehearsed, almost more of a mask than any actual mask he could wear as Batman. “You’ve been chosen as the one and only student for the Wayne Enterprises Recurring Internship Program.”</p><p>“The only student?” her mother asked, looking surprised. </p><p>“It’s a pilot program,” Bruce explained, his tone reassuring. “We want to make sure everything works out with Kolby before we extend the program.”</p><p>“It’s been a while since I applied for the internship, Mr. Wayne,” Kolby said, toeing off her shoes and dropping her backpack by the door before walking into the living room. “Can you remind me what the whole plan is, please.”</p><p>There was a glint in Bruce’s eye, something akin to interest, as he realized Kolby was playing along. There was a brief twitch to his lips, like he was holding back a smirk. Kolby tried her best to keep her expression one of neutral surprise as she realized that Bruce was assessing her even now.</p><p>“The idea would be that every summer from now until your senior year of college, you’d come and work for Wayne Enterprises for six weeks,” Bruce explained, leaning back into the plush armchair and crossing his legs casually. He was more comfortable now, Kolby realized, after finding out that she was willing to keep up the ruse. “You’d work twenty hours a week, and your housing and food would be covered by the program. You would also be paid a reasonable rate for your work.”</p><p>“It’s paid?!” Kolby couldn’t hold back a shout of surprise at that.</p><p>“Of course,” Bruce said easily. “All work should be compensated fairly. Besides, a young woman your age needs to save up for college expenses. It wouldn’t be fair of me to take away your opportunity to work other positions every summer with this internship and then not pay you.” </p><p>“That’s very generous, Mr. Wayne,” Kolby’s mother tittered. </p><p>“It’s good business sense,” Bruce said with a dismissive shake of his head. “If you can’t trust me to look after you as an intern, why would you take a full time position at my company later? If I put this much time and effort into training you, I want to keep that talent for myself. Which is why at the end of all this, you will be offered a position at one of Wayne Enterprise’s many branches.” </p><p>Kolby and her parents stared at him wide-eyed. That was an insane amount to promise her, even on a conceptual level. With the amount of experience she’d gain over the next few years, she’d be stepping into the company with mid-level seniority right out of college. Kolby had to ask herself why. Why would he want to keep her around Gotham even after he was done training her? Or was the plan to end the internship before it got that far, citing some outside reason for its end? Kolby couldn't be sure. </p><p>“That’s...more than I could have expected,” Kolby admitted.</p><p>Bruce smiled, and Kolby felt like the canary about to be devoured by the cat. “I like to exceed expectations. So...do I have your agreement?” </p><p>“Uh, well, I mean…” Kolby looked towards her parents. “I’d love to, but…”</p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake, Kolby, of course our answer is yes!” her father shouted jovially. He stood up and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you for taking initiative and applying for the internship. It’ll be good for you.”</p><p>“Can you promise she’ll be safe?” her mother asked hesitantly. “Gotham isn’t exactly known for its safety.”</p><p>Bruce’s casual demeanor shifted into something far more stoic. Kolby felt as if she’d just seen the transformation from Bruce to Batman happen before her very eyes. It was impressive, and she could only hope that she could pull off something even remotely similar.</p><p>“Mrs. Scott, I promise you to do everything I can to ensure the safety of your daughter.”  </p><p> </p><p>Kolby stood outside with Nightwing and Damian as her parents finished signing permission forms with Bruce inside. She shuffled awkwardly in the silence, hands stuffed into jean pockets. This whole situation blew her mind. Not even two months ago, she was a normal junior, just trying to get through advanced physics in peace. Now she was a superhero with fucking Batman as her mentor and benefactor. Not only was her hero career set in stone, but her civilian future was laid out in front of her with a red carpet. </p><p>Shit’s wild.</p><p>“You know, when you told me you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant basically the next day,” Kolby said, breaking the silence.</p><p>“Father always plans for every eventuality,” Damian said sharply, arms crossed tightly over his chest.</p><p>“Clearly,” Kolby muttered. She glanced at Damian, and smiled. “So, I can call you Damian now, right? The mask is off.”</p><p>“If you called me Robin now, I’d pull your tongue out from your skull,” he threatened. “First lesson of heroism: keep the mask and the civilian separate.”</p><p>Kolby rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure you noticed, bambino, but I lied out my ass in there like a champ.”</p><p>One of Damian’s eyes twitched as his whole body went rigid. If looks could kill, Kolby would be dead by instant immolation. “Don’t call me that! I’m not an infant.” </p><p>Kolby grinned, deciding to press her luck. “The baby fat in your cheeks says otherwise, bambino.” She reached out to poke Damian’s cheek, pulling away when he made to smack at her hand. Nightwing -- Kolby was going to have to find out his real name soon -- snickered.</p><p>“Stop acting like a child! I can’t believe Father took an interest in someone like you.” </p><p>“I am a child,” Kolby reminded him. “And so are you.”</p><p>“I’ve been training to take over the League of Shadows since I was two,” Damian hissed, reminding Kolby of an irate cat. “I knew over a hundred ways to kill a man before I was five.”</p><p>Kolby frowned. Jeez, this poor kid. He was so messed up he didn’t even know how messed up he was. What kind of parent taught a toddler how to kill people? Not Batman, she hoped. No, couldn’t be Batman. He didn’t kill. Who the hell were the League of Shadows, and why was Batman’s son a member of it? Oh man, she thought, what if the kid had gotten kidnapped? And Bruce only got his son back recently. That was terrible. </p><p>“That doesn’t make you not a kid,” she said, far more somber than she had been just a moment ago. “It just makes you a traumatized one.” </p><p>Damian looked taken aback, as if no one had told him how messed up his childhood was...at least not in a way that took his mental health into account. Kolby doubted Damian’s childhood was never brought up amongst the Bat Family. Like, how did anyone just not talk about that sort of thing? </p><p>She set a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. He made an undignified noise, but Kolby elected to turn to Nightwing instead. </p><p>“I never did get your name,” she said. “Well...I have one of them.”</p><p>Nightwing smiled, holding out his hand for her to shake. “Dick Grayson. Nice to meet you, Kolby.”</p><p>Kolby took his hand in hers, giving it a firm shake. “You as well.” </p><p>The door opened, and Bruce stepped out of the house. Kolby saw him slip an envelope into some inner pocket of his suit jacket. Probably the papers she and her parents signed. He set her with a firm stare as he walked down the wide concrete steps that led up to her house, and Kolby immediately felt microscopic under his gaze. There was something about him that analyzed her every move and expression, like an anthropologist trying to piece together an ancient culture from shards of pottery. </p><p>He stopped just in front of her, and Kolby realized that he kind of towered over her. He’d looked way smaller sitting in her family’s armchair than he did now. She rubbed her palms over her jeans, hoping to rid them of their claminess. </p><p>“Welcome aboard, Morrigan.” He said her hero name quietly, like the deep rumble of distant thunder. </p><p>Kolby swallowed thick around the sudden nervous lump in her throat. “Yes, sir.” </p><p>The stiff demeanor fell away as easily as discarding a tissue, and Bruce gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “See you in June.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wasn't It Love Soon As We Knew Each Other Properly?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, where do we start?” </p><p>Clark shuffled his feet on the white cloth of the studio backdrop, feeling a little nervous. He hadn’t had any portraits taken of himself since Ma Kent took him to the department store when he was a kid. Frankly, he didn’t think he photographed well. Then again, he thought, Aria would know better than he would. After all, she was the photographer. </p><p>“The idea for this first week is to photograph you ‘as you are’, so to speak,” Aria explained as she messed around with the lights. “In short: we start with a standard portrait.” She paused, looking about. Clark could see the gears spinning in her mind. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a desk. “Do you think you could bring that over here for me?”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Clark agreed. He made a show of putting in effort into bringing over the large piece of furniture, despite the fact he could barely feel the weight of it in his hands. He set the desk in the middle of the backdrop. “How do you want me?” </p><p>Aria studied him for a moment, picking her camera up from a nearby table and slipping the strap around her neck. She strode forward, and Clark couldn’t help but notice how carefully she took each step. She’d taken her shoes off when they came into the room, and Clark had been wanting to ask why. But when he recognized how little noise she made with each meticulous step, he understood. </p><p>Her effort to make herself invisible to her subject could be considered admirable, Clark decided. </p><p>“May I touch you?” </p><p>Clark blinked, his thoughts screeching to a halt. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>His gaze focused once again on Aria, who stood in front of him with an unreadable expression on her face. She held up a hand, her fingertips hovering mere centimeters from Clark’s chin.</p><p>“May I touch you?” she asked again. “It would be best for proper posing. If you don’t want me to, I understand. I’m already asking a lot of you, so if this is a step too far, I won’t argue.” </p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Clark said. “I was just lost in thought.” </p><p>“I understand,” Aria said, her fingertips touching his chin and moving his head slightly. She had that little smile on her lips again, soft and mysterious. “I get like that sometimes, too.” </p><p>She pulled away, and Clark remained as she posed him. There was the whirl of the zoom ring shifting, and the click of the shutter. She shifted to the side, and again there was the whirl-click of the camera. It continued like this for a while. Every so often she’d move forward, physically repositioning him as she saw fit. </p><p>At one point she asked, “Do you happen to have a notebook and pencil with you?” </p><p>Clark had to hold back a chuckle. “I’m a journalist, of course I do. Is it alright if I move to grab it from my bag?”</p><p>Aria didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, she made a little noise of realization. She must have nodded, not recognizing that he couldn’t see her in the position he was in. She gave him a verbal go ahead. Once done, Clark settled himself back in the position he’d been in previously, notepad and pen in hand.</p><p>“I would like you to write,” Aria said, her voice quietly echoing in the large, mostly empty space. “You should settle into whatever position is most comfortable for you to do that.” </p><p>Clark didn’t really have anything to write about at the moment. He didn’t have a draft he was working on, or anything like that. So instead, he wrote his observations of Aria’s work. He wrote on her apparent ethic, her quiet contemplations, and her professional courtesy. Clark wondered how many other photographers asked their models if they could touch them before doing so. He hoped it was all of them, but he didn’t have the experience to know. </p><p>When he ran out of words for that, he started writing about Aria in general. He wrote in generalities first, his writing gaining more details and specificity as he continued. He wrote on the specific color green of her eyes, and he wondered if they looked different to his Kryptonian eyes than they did to other humans. He wrote on the way her heartbeat sounded in his ears in between the whirl-click of the camera. She had a heart murmur, he realized. A small one. It likely didn’t affect her at all. She might not even be aware of it. </p><p>“Clark?”</p><p>Like waking from a dream, Clark was pulled away from his thoughts by Aria’s gentle call. He glanced down at his pad of paper, noticing he’d filled two and a half pages full of ramblings. How long had they been at this?</p><p>“Clark?” Aria called again, a note of concern in her voice. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yes. I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said, forcing a smile. </p><p>“We’re done for today,” Aria informed him, tucking her camera away in its bag. “It seems like you got a lot of work done, too. What are you working on?” </p><p>“Oh.” Clark looked down at his notepad once again, feeling shame and embarrassment heat his cheeks. There was no way he could tell Aria that he’d spent the last who-knows-how-long rambling about her on paper. “Nothing important. I just started writing whatever came to mind.” </p><p>“Stream of consciousness, I see.” Aria nodded in understanding. “It’s about dinner time. Do you want to grab something to eat with me? We could go back to the place from last time. Or we can go somewhere else. There’s a pad thai place not too far from here. The pizza place is a bit of a trek from the studios, but I don’t mind if that’s where you want to go.” </p><p>“What do you want to eat?” Clark asked. </p><p>Aria looked at him quizzically. “I’m not really partial to anything at the moment. Besides, I asked you first.”</p><p>“I suppose that’s true,” Clark agreed, rubbing at his chin. A thought came to mind, and it brought a grin to his face. He turned his focus back to Aria, who watched him with no shortage of confusion. He reached out and took her hand in his, the action startling a squeaking sound out of her. </p><p>“I’m going to surprise you,” he said. “Follow me.” </p><p> </p><p>“This place has the best pie,” Clark insisted upon arriving at their destination. “You’ll love it.” </p><p>Aria stared up at the dinner’s blinking neon sign, unsure how to feel about the situation. Clark still hadn’t released her hand, and it was starting to make hers sweat. His hands were so large and warm, it almost seemed inhuman. She glanced at Clark, who greeted her gaze with a near-blinding smile. </p><p>She couldn’t help but meet his smile with one of her own. “I should hope so, since you dragged me halfway across town for it.” </p><p>Clark’s smile fell a little. “Sorry about that. Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Aria couldn’t help but chuckle at Clark’s concern. “My mama used to make me walk to school as punishment if I ever backtalked her. It was a good hour walk one-way. I can handle a couple city blocks, especially with a few trains to help us out.” </p><p>Her admission didn’t appear to help with anything. She wondered why. Clearly if she was able to do a three-mile hike, she could deal with just about any amount of walking Clark threw her way. Why did he still look so concerned? What did she say wrong?</p><p>Abort the line of conversation, she decided, before it got worse. “Are you going to hold my hand through dinner? I can’t exactly say I mind, but it might make things more difficult.” </p><p>Clark’s hand immediately retracted from hers, which left Aria feeling...weirdly cold. She flexed her fingers absently, reaching for something that was no longer there. </p><p>“Sorry about that,” Clark said sheepishly. “I got excited. Pete’s is a great place. You’ll love it!”</p><p>Aria glanced up at the neon sign one more time before following Clark towards the door. The inside was like any old-style 50’s diner: checkerboard tiles on the floor, shiny plastic booths, and the smell of fried food filling the air. It was brightly lit, and Aria caught a glimpse of a jukebox in the corner as the hostess seated them. It was full of families and older couples, a totally different crowd from the pizza joint Aria loved so much. </p><p>“Get whatever you like,” Clark insisted. “It’s my treat. Just make sure you leave room for pie.”</p><p>“I have to admit to you, Clark, I’m not the biggest fan of pie,” Aria said, feeling a little conflicted that she had to deflate Clark’s energy. It was better that he knew now, though, than finding out later when she ended up just picking at whatever pie she chose to make him happy. </p><p>In spite of her predictions, Clark’s smile continued without wavering. “No worries at all. You can have the ice cream that comes with mine.” </p><p>Aria hid her school girl giggle behind the large menu. This felt even more like a date than last time. She felt a little sneaky, slipping in these little almost-dates. Even if she only saw Clark like this for a few weeks, she’d count the whole effort worth it. </p><p>She’d been a nervous wreck when she first asked Clark to be her model, but she’d been set in her decision. She’d suffered from a steady undercurrent of anxiety since she was a kid, though she’d never been formally diagnosed. Her parents didn’t really believe in ‘that mental health nonsense’, so even if she had been diagnosed, she doubted they’d care much. Her family was old fashioned like that. Hell, the only reason they let her go off to college instead of forcing her to stay around town was because she’d gotten a full ride. </p><p>So, she’d always lived her life by the tenet of ‘If I’m going to have anxiety, then, by god, I’m going to have anxiety for a reason.’ ‘Balls of steel,’ Layla had called them after Aria told her the whole story about Clark. </p><p>Haha. Balls of Steel. Sounded like a porno about Superman…</p><p>“Aria?” </p><p>“Yes?” Her head shot up in response to Clark’s questioning tone. A waitress stood next to their table, order pad in hand, looking expectantly at her.</p><p>“Are you ready to order?” </p><p>“Oh. Uh. Sorry.” She felt that blasted anxiety spike a bit at the sudden weight of a necessary decision. She glanced at the menu, ordering the first thing her eyes managed to focus on. “Chicken fried steak sandwich, please.” </p><p>“Do you want fries or tots with that?” the waitress asked, her tone one of infinite patience. </p><p>“Tots, please,” Aria said, handing her the menu. “And a side of ranch, please.” </p><p>“Anything to drink?”</p><p>Aria froze, finding herself stuck having already given the menu to the waitress.</p><p>“Two milkshakes, Doris,” Clark said, intervening for her. “Make mine chocolate. With extra whipped cream.”</p><p>“Vanilla,” Aria said when the waitress looked at her. “No whip cream or cherry, please.” </p><p>“Not a fan of whipped cream?” Clark asked as Doris wandered off.</p><p>Aria shrugged. “It doesn’t taste like much of anything. I don’t dislike it, but I don’t like it either. My mama would call it ‘empty calories’ and wouldn’t let me have any when I was a kid. I guess you could say I never developed a taste for it. I was the same way about soda until I started going to Lucio’s. That’s the pizza place I took you to last time, by the way. I was never allowed to drink any as a kid, so when I finally got around to trying some, the carbonation threw me off. It hurt when I burped, too. So that wasn’t fun. Lucio’s soda is good, though. There’s not a lot of fizz to it. Like, it’s there, but it’s not over powering.”</p><p>She stopped, realizing she was rambling again. She looked down at her hands, rubbing her thumb into the palm of her hand sheepishly. “Sorry.” </p><p>“No, don’t be sorry.” Clark’s voice was so kind and reassuring. Aria really did need to stop herself, or she was going to totally fall head-over-heels for him. She glanced up, realizing Clark had waited for her to look at him before continuing.</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind me saying so,” Clark continued gently, “but it sounds like you had a pretty restrictive childhood.”</p><p>“A bit,” Aria admitted with a shrug. “My mama and papa are them old school Christian types, you see. Always wanted to make sure I was a good girl. Took me to church every Sunday...at least until I got a job working at the local big box store. My mama wanted me to work at Hobby Lobby or Chik-fil-a, but neither of them were hiring at the time. </p><p>“I worked the photography department, you know. Watching people’s memories come out in physical form...that’s what made me want to go into photography,” she continued. She was rambling again, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked like he was listening closer than he had been before. Most people tuned her out when she started going off like this. It felt nice to be listened to. “I saved up all my money and bought my camera. Mama thought it was a silly purchase, but it got me my scholarship. Do you know how nice it feels to finally find something you’re good at? To finally find something you can do well and feel good doing?”</p><p>“It’s how I feel about journalism,” Clark said, and even though his words were simple, Aria felt understood. She’d never felt this way at home with her parents, and only rarely did she feel like Layla and Carmen -- Layla’s roommate -- ever really got her. And of course Clark understood her. Clark understood everything. Why else would he agree to model for her despite barely knowing her? </p><p>Her mama was wrong; Aria would never regret coming to Metropolis.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. How it must feel to be a bird, London, Paris under me. I'll wait on my own here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Clark, we need to talk about your inability to vet people properly.”</p><p>Clark rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had called him to complain about one mundane thing or another. He just wasn’t quite sure what this one could be about. He hadn’t done anything publicly that could be considered a faux paux in a while.</p><p>“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Bruce.” </p><p>“Really? So you didn’t agree to be photographed nude by a young woman you barely know?”</p><p>Clarked blinked, holding the phone away from his ear in surprise. “How did you know about that?”</p><p>“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t be aware of every single form your signature appears on?” Bruce asked incredulously. </p><p>“Did you actually sneak into Metropolis just to go through a few filing cabinets?” </p><p>“No. The form was scanned into the university’s cloud, likely in case the paper form was lost,” Bruce explained. “But seriously, Clark, you’ve known this woman for what? Two weeks? And you agreed to model for her?”</p><p>Clark shrugged, like Bruce could see him through the phone (Clark honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce could see him, but that was a concern for another time). “She’s a good kid, Bruce. She gave me her word.”</p><p>“Like that means anything.”</p><p>“Well, it’s not like I’m the only one picking up a new hobby,” Clark said, determined to change the subject. “A little bird told me you’ve picked up a new protege.”</p><p>Bruce was silent for a moment. “Something like that.”</p><p>“It’s that Morrigan girl from the internet, isn’t it?” Clark asked, despite already knowing the answer. “I’m a little confused about what caught your eye this time. Was it the black outfit or the nocturnal schedule?”</p><p>“Neither,” Bruce said firmly. “She’s young, and alone, and clearly out of her depth. Can you honestly say that a younger you wouldn’t have been desperate for someone to offer you a guiding hand?” </p><p>Clark smiled. This was Bruce at his best. “No need to get the soapbox out, Bruce. Tell me about her. You’ve met her already, right?”</p><p>“She’s a good kid.” Clark had to hold back a chuckle when Bruce used the same words he had not moments earlier. “She’s smart, diligent, and has a keen sense of self-awareness. What she lacks most is training, and a bit more confidence.”</p><p>Something indigo streaked across the sky, and Clark immediately knew the call was over. “Bruce, I’ve got to go.”</p><p>“Our initial conversation isn’t over, Clark.”</p><p>“It never is.”</p><p> </p><p>Superman caught up with the indigo streak easily despite their head start, discovering the streak to be a young woman in white and black. Her whole being glowed with indigo light as she floated in the air, though the expression on her face made it seem like it was taking a good deal of concentration for her to do so. </p><p>“Excuse me, Miss, I’m going to need you to pull over,” Superman said, keeping his tone firm but jovial. </p><p>The young woman looked his way, looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She made her way to the top of a skyscraper, wobbling a bit as she landed. The indigo glow faded, and Superman watched as she shuffled awkwardly.</p><p>“I don’t often see young ladies flying about Metropolis,” Superman said, remaining in the air and crossing his arms. </p><p>The young woman met his gaze steadily, but he could see her hands wringing at the white tunic she wore. “Am I in trouble?” </p><p>“No, you’re not in trouble,” Superman said. “At least not yet. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you were planning to do?”</p><p>The young woman hesitated, but spoke with steady conviction. “I’ve decided to call myself Spectrum. I somehow recently developed a myriad of powers and I decided to use them in a similar manner that you do. I can’t say I trust myself to try and fight the sort of world-shattering threats that you do, but there are surely some smaller threats that you have to pass over to take care of the bigger ones. I hope you don’t mind me doing so.” </p><p>Superman observed the young woman carefully, watching and listening for any particular sign she was lying. Her heartbeat was severely elevated, but the young woman was clearly nervous in spite of her steady gaze and well-worded speech. He’d have to wait until she was calmer before he could make any judgements.</p><p>Interesting. She had a small heart murmur. Those weren’t necessarily a dealbreaker, but if she was unaware, she’d need to get that looked at. Heroing wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, and he didn’t want her having some kind of attack while trying to help people. He’d try and bring it up later. Odd that he’d discover two different people with heart murmurs in a week. They weren’t exactly uncommon, but the point still stood. It was a strange coincidence.</p><p>He’d been staring at her for too long to be anything but weird at this point. It was time to say something. “Spectrum, huh?” He glanced at the symbol that had been printed onto the fabric of her tunic. It was a black diamond shape with a stylized S in the middle, very similar to his. It was clear she was trying to go for some kind of association. </p><p>“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I have a broad variety of powers, each one making me glow a different color of the visible spectrum of light. It seemed an easy choice.” </p><p>“Show me,” Superman ordered. </p><p>Spectrum hesitated once again, but not for long. Once again, she was glowing indigo and hovering just above the roof of the skyscraper. “We shouldn’t do this here, I think. Do you know somewhere we can go?”</p><p>Superman nodded, taking off into the sky. Spectrum did her best to keep up, but her flight was significantly slower than Superman’s usual speed. He couldn’t really blame her; she was new to this, after all. He brought her just outside of Metropolis, where the conifer trees were thick and hid them well. </p><p>“Alright, no more dawdling.”</p><p>Spectrum nodded, settling on the ground next to a recently fallen tree and losing her indigo glow. A red glow quickly replaced it, and Spectrum dug her hands into the bark of the fallen tree. She lifted it from the earth with little effort, hoisting it up in the air for a few moments before returning it to its original spot. </p><p>Superman watched with interest as she spotted a large boulder not far off. Her red glow turned orange as she held out her hand and shot a laser beam at it, creating a dent in the rock. Her orange shifted to yellow as Spectrum created a small forcefield around herself. Yellow turned green and angular, transparent green crystals sprouted from the ground with a wave of Spectrum’s hand. The air around them went frigid as Spectrum’s glow turned blue and shot a beam of ice out of her hands towards the rock she’d been bullying earlier. </p><p>Finally, she turned to Superman, green turning to violet. He heard her voice in his head. ‘And violet is telepathy.’</p><p>“Telepathy, eh?” Superman kept his tone light, but he couldn’t help but feel concerned. What if she probed his mind to try and discover his identity?</p><p>“Yes, but it’s not very powerful,” Spectrum admitted out loud. “I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts that aren’t directed at me. It’s good for communication, but little else. Or, at least, that is what I’ve discovered so far.” </p><p>“You could almost rival me in number of powers,” Superman joked, finally landing on the ground. </p><p>“I highly doubt it,” Spectrum said flatly. “But I appreciate the compliment.” </p><p>She was starting to remind him of someone, though he couldn’t quite place who. He wondered if she lived life like he did, wearing a mask while a civilian, as her face was devoid of anything that tried to hide her identity. In fact, her hair was pulled back to show even more of her face. Her cheek bones were prominent, and she had a distinct beauty mark next to one of her muted green eyes. </p><p>The sharp sound of an alarm rang in his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked towards Metropolis for a moment, before turning back to Spectrum.</p><p>“How would you like to run a field test?” </p><p> </p><p>Normally, Superman wouldn’t pay all that much attention to a simple robbery. He’d get to it if he could, but he preferred to let the local authorities deal with it. He couldn’t have them totally relying on him after all. What would they do if he was gone on a space mission for an extended period of time?</p><p>This robbery, however, seemed to be a bit more than the local beat cops could handle. Unfortunate for the police officers, but a perfect opportunity to see what Spectrum could do without overwhelming her. Hopefully.</p><p>He and Spectrum hovered over the scene. He watched her as she assessed the situation, her eyes darting back and forth between the officers and the crooks that fired upon them from the safety of the jewelry store. It didn’t take her too terribly long -- though it did take longer than it would have taken Superman, but he’d give her a pass given her amateur status -- to make up her mind, diving down right in the middle of the situation.</p><p>A wall of transparent green crystals shielded the police officers from the hail of bullets coming from the robber’s automatic weapons. The weapons didn’t last much longer, their muzzles soon covered in a thick layer of ice. Spectrum landed in between the two factions, staring down the robbers.</p><p>“That’s enough. You have committed a crime. Give up now, and you can hope for leniency in the justice system.” </p><p>Superman couldn’t help but chuckle at the unorthodox language Spectrum used. </p><p>“Who the hell are you?” one of the robbers shouted. “And why is Superman just standing there?”</p><p>Spectrum stood firm, her expression never changing from that of stern concentration. “I call myself Spectrum, and I don’t really think Superman is who you should be worried about at the moment.” </p><p>Spectrum became a rainbow of colors, as orange was added to the blue and green glow that surrounded her. A beam of orange shot out from her hands, knocking the gun out of the shouting robber’s hand. </p><p>“I’ll say it again,” Spectrum said, her voice rising in volume just a bit. “Give up now, and you can hope for leniency in the justice system.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did I do well?” Spectrum asked, standing off to the side with Superman as the police carted the robbers away.</p><p>“I’d say so,” Superman answered with a nod. “You might want to work on your quips, though.”</p><p>Spectrum chuckled, giving Superman a beaming smile. “You’ll have to forgive me, I tend to be overly specific with my words when I’m nervous. I’m just glad it didn’t come out as rambling like it normally does.” </p><p>Superman narrowed his eyes briefly, and Spectrum felt her heartbeat speed up. That wasn’t too much, was it? No. There was no reason for Superman to be suspicious of that.She’d never encountered Superman previously, so how could he possibly connect the dots? Still, she felt the anxiety claw at her chest.</p><p>Superman’s expression shifted into that of concern. He set a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward. When he spoke, it was a whisper.</p><p>“Once I’m done talking, you might want to laugh for the cameras.” Spectrum blinked owlishly at the command, only now recognizing that the press had showed up. That was fast. </p><p>“Is something wrong?” she asked, hiding her mouth behind her hand in case anyone nearby could read lips. </p><p>“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Superman whispered, his tone a gentle warning, “but you have a heart murmur. You might want to check that out before you decide if this line of work is for you.”</p><p>Spectrum gasped, happy for the hand over her mouth. She did in fact laugh when Superman pulled away, but it was a nervous one. A heart murmur? Those were serious, weren’t they? She’d never heard anything about it before. Shit, she’d have to find a doctor in town that took her parent’s insurance; she didn’t have the time nor the money to be driving all the way back to Kentucky right now. </p><p>“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered, struggling to keep her face neutral. </p><p>“I wouldn’t want you to end up hurting yourself while trying to help others,” Superman said, and Spectrum instinctively believed him. </p><p>There was something warm and familiar about Superman, Spectrum decided. The warmth was a bit literal, seeing as her shoulder radiated with it when he touched her, and now she found herself feeling chilled without it. He was just so kind, and comforting to be around. She felt like she could tell him anything, and he would understand all of it. </p><p>“I’ll be taking my leave first, if you don’t mind,” she said, stepping away from Superman. </p><p>“Of course.” His smile seemed so familiar, like she’d seen it on someone else. But that couldn’t be right. “It was nice meeting you, Spectrum.”</p><p>“You, too.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. You can't take any gold or rings further than the grave, Nothing we make can we bring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby scrolled absently through her tumblr feed as she walked home from the bus stop. Seemed a lot of people were in a tizzy about this Spectrum lady. She had a lot of fanart already, which gave Kolby a small pang of jealousy. She’d been at it for a good two months now and was just now getting a bit of attention online beyond the viral hit that was her debut video. Well, she just had to chalk it up to location. Spectrum showed up in Metropolis and was caught by actual journalists and stuff. Morrigan hung around a quiet suburb and barely had a presence in the media. </p><p>Still, it made Kolby wonder if she was doing something wrong. </p><p>She opened the door to her home, nearly tripping over the large package right by the door. “What the …?”</p><p>“Mr. Wayne sent you a package, dear,” her mother called from the couch where she was probably watching her soaps. </p><p>“I can see that,” Kolby said, stuff her phone back in her pocket. “What is it doing right by the door?”</p><p>“It’s heavy!” her mother exclaimed. “I don’t know what he sent you but I could barely move it.” </p><p>Kolby, now infinitely more curious than she had been when she tripped over the box, bent down to collect her goodies. It was indeed heavy, but she carried around four textbooks in her backpack on a regular basis. She could handle this.</p><p>“Don’t hurt yourself,” her mother warned.</p><p>Kolby ignored her, trundling down the hall with her haul. It likely had a few super secret hero things tucked into the contents, and she wasn’t about to give her mum any sort of clues to her late-night activities. She closed the door, whipped out a swiss army knife her uncle had given her at one point for reasons she’d long since forgotten, and popped open her gift.</p><p>Inside, on top of everything else, was a Wayne Enterprises windbreaker and a polo. The dark blue and yellow coloring on the windbreaker reminded her a bit of the 90s. The polo was the standard affair, logo embroidered on the breast pocket and everything, though the fabric felt thick and durable. Underneath the clothing was where things got interesting. Kolby’s eyes went wide at the sight of a sleek, gunmetal grey laptop. But before she got to that, there was a chunky glasses case and an envelope to get to. </p><p>She opened the envelope first, finding a handwritten letter. </p><p>‘Kolby,</p><p>I hope this letter finds you well. Included in this package are a few gifts that I put together for you to help with both your duties. </p><p>The glasses are a replacement for the ones you currently use. Try them on, and let me know if they fit properly. I imagine these will be a little easier to see with. </p><p>As for the laptop: please use it with my compliments. It includes any program a student could need, and a few others in case you feel like exploring a few new hobbies.</p><p>Also included in this letter is an invitation to a conference of sorts this November. RSVP as soon as you are able so that plans may be arranged for your travel and accommodation. </p><p>Regards,</p><p>Bruce Wayne’</p><p> </p><p>The invitation was a simple, narrow cardstock slip with bold black print. ‘Investing in Our Future’, the invitation read, ‘A Conference on Supporting Youth in Industry.’ Batman really did think of everything. The date had it occurring the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before Thanksgiving. Kolby wasn’t sure she could get away with that, but she sure as hell could try. </p><p>But first, the sunglasses. Opening the case, she found what looked like an exact replica of the glasses she currently wore as Morrigan. Lifting them out, though, she found they were a bit heavier than hers. Not hard, she supposed, her current ones weighed basically nothing. She slipped them on, finding the fit snug, but not uncomfortably tight. She shook her head quickly, and they stayed firmly on her face. Good, that was something she worried about pretty frequently with her current ones. She pushed them up to the top of her head, and reached for the hidden inner pocket of her backpack for the phone Nightwing had given her. </p><p>She flipped through the contacts, wondering how this phone was supposed to be so secure when she opened it so easily. Probably had some kind of fingerprint scan or something hidden in there somehow. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. At least, it didn’t matter so long as she kept the phone on her.</p><p>She paused, her thumb hovering over Batman’s contact info. He was probably busy, so she shouldn’t call him. A quick text he could reply to later would be fine. </p><p>‘Thank you for the gifts,’ she texted him. In a second text, she added, ‘The glasses fit great.’ </p><p>Immediately the phone started beeping and vibrating, sending Kolby into a panic so sudden that she nearly chucked her phone across the room. The only thing stopping her was the bat symbol just behind text that announced an incoming call.</p><p>Accepting the call, Kolby brought the phone cautiously to her ear. “Hello?”</p><p>“I’m glad you got my present.” The same Bruce Wayne smooth-as-honey voice that Kolby remembered from their previous meeting filtered in through the speaker at surprisingly high quality. “Everything fit alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, the glasses fit great,” she said, reaching for the windbreaker to try it on as well. “Though I’m not sure how much they’re supposed to help me see.”</p><p>“Well, if you swipe your finger along the right arm while wearing them, you might see what I mean.” </p><p>Cryptic. Fun! Kolby resettled the glasses on her face, finding a patch on the right arm of the frames that did indeed feel a little rougher than the rest of the glasses. She pressed gently on it with her finger and swiped backwards, gasping as the glasses sprang to life.</p><p>Bruce chuckled. “I guess that means you got it to work.”</p><p>“What the hell?” Kolby whispered, forgetting for a moment this was her future boss she was on the phone with.</p><p>“They’re photosensitive, and will automatically switch to night vision below a certain light level,” Bruce continued, ignoring Kolby’s quiet outburst. “They also have heat vision and telescopic capabilities. I’ve also taken the liberty to include a voice activated search function that connects you to the League’s intranet. They also attach to your phone via a technology similar to bluetooth that is not, in fact, bluetooth -- no matter how many times Flash insists it’s just bluetooth.”</p><p>“A little salty about that, Mr. Wayne?” Kolby joked, testing the waters.</p><p>“The Dead Sea wishes it was as salty as I am about it,” Bruce agreed, his voice devoid of humor. Kolby counted it as a victory nonetheless. “The point is, you can contact any of us if you need to.”</p><p>“Well, I appreciate it, Mr. Wayne,” Kolby said. She really did. She’d been planning on buying a laptop for herself anyway, but now she didn’t have to save up all her Christmas and birthday money only to settle for a crappy 200 dollar laptop that’d break in two years anyway. “About this conference?” </p><p>“While you may be known of, you are not known by the larger community,” Bruce said, leaving what community he meant vague enough for Kolby to know exactly what he meant. “I planned on introducing you to a few select members before your internship.”</p><p>Kolby felt her heart hammer in her chest. Introduce her? To other heroes? Well, golly jee wiz, Mr. Wayne, that sounded right fantastic… and also Terrifying As Fuck. What if they didn’t like her? What if they thought she was just some kid messing around? What if she accidentally said something that was offensive on Mars or Krypton or in Atlantis? </p><p>“I don’t know…”</p><p>“Kolby?” her mother called from the living room. “Who are you talking to?”</p><p>“Shit,” Kolby hissed under her breath. Louder she said, “One second, Mr. Wayne.”</p><p>She stumbled out into the hallway, still wearing the windbreaker she was trying on (it was a bit big on her, but she didn’t mind). She poked her head around the corner to make eye contact with her mom, holding the phone to her shoulder. </p><p>“Who are you on the phone with?” Her mother asked curiously.</p><p>“With Mr. Wayne,” Kolby said. “I wanted to thank him for the gifts.”</p><p>“You called him?” her mother looked a little surprised. “He’s probably busy, you know.”</p><p>“No, I texted him,” Kolby corrected, pouting a little. “He called me!”</p><p>“Did he have something he wanted to talk about?” </p><p>“Yeah, and I should probably get back to him on that,” Kolby said, letting her annoyance show. Seriously, how often did her mother get snippy with her about interrupting her on the phone, only to keep her from talking to Bruce McFuckin’ Wayne?</p><p>Her mother made to say something else, probably to scold her, but Kolby simply went back to her phone. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne. I had to talk to my mum real quick.” </p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce assured her shortly. “Did you explain the conference to her?”</p><p>“No, not yet,” Kolby said, wandering back to her room for the invitation. “I’m not really sure how comfortable I am about this, sir. Doesn’t it seem kind of early to introduce me to such important people? I haven’t even started my internship yet.”</p><p>“Possibly, but if you’re going to work in this industry, you need to make connections fast.”</p><p>Kolby wanted to roll her eyes at him, but as far as she knew Batman had always worked with other people despite his loner persona. “Alright, but that doesn’t mean I’m not anxious about it.”</p><p>She’d grabbed the invitation and made her way back out to the living room at this point, handing it off to her mother. </p><p>‘What’s this?’ her mother mouthed silently.</p><p>Once again, Kolby put her phone to her shoulder. “Mr. Wayne wants me to attend this conference with him. Something about making connections early in my career.”</p><p>Her mother looked a little skeptical. “I’ll talk to your father about it.” </p><p>Kolby brought her phone back up to her ear. “I’ve got a solid ‘maybe’ from my parents on that conference, sir.” </p><p> </p><p>Kolby didn’t have a lot of friends at school. She had people she talked to, of course, but she wasn’t sure she’d call them friends. They were closer to work acquaintances. However, her lack of friends didn’t mean she was out of the loop when it came to the school gossip. </p><p>“I hear there’s some new drug going around,” her orchestra stand partner said as he pulled out his viola. </p><p>“I didn’t know drugs were going around in the first place,” she said, passing resin over her bow.</p><p>“I mean, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “God, you’re naive, Kolby.” </p><p>“Shut up, Mark, I have actual hobbies to spend my time on.”</p><p>Mark rolled his eyes. “Anyway, some guys I know said that some of their friends got ahold of some new drug. Said it’s easy to hide from their folks cause it looks like those drink powders you add to water.” </p><p>“You act like it’s hard to hide any drugs from parents,” Kolby muttered, lowering her voice now that the director had wandered into the room. “People have been hiding their vape pens forever.” </p><p>“Alright. Fair point. You’re not as naive as I may have implied,” Mark joked quietly. </p><p>Kolby shushed him as the director came to stand at his podium. She took her pencil and wrote ‘after class’ in the corner of their sheet music. She couldn’t help but feel distracted the whole class period, to the point where the director asked if something was wrong, she wasn’t usually so out of sorts. She waved it off using an imaginary headache as an excuse.</p><p>“Go to the nurse then,” the director said shortly.</p><p>“Can Mark come with me?” she asked. “I didn’t want to make a fuss, but I’m a little dizzy.”</p><p>“Go.”</p><p>“What was that about?” Mark hissed as they packed up their instruments and made their way to the lockers. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you in the hall.” </p><p> </p><p>True to her word, Kolby didn’t say another word until the two of them were out in the mostly deserted hallway. “Where are the drugs coming from?”</p><p>“What?” Mark half-shouted, earning a shushing from Kolby. Next he spoke, it was barely above a whisper, “What? You trying to get some?”</p><p>“God, no,” Kolby said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to figure out who to avoid like the plague.” </p><p>“Won’t be hard,” Mark muttered. “Seriously, are you okay? Are you actually dizzy?”</p><p>“I’ve never thought you’d be so against skipping class,” Kolby said with a chuckle. “Nah, I’m fine. I just knew if I said I was dizzy he’d let you come with me.”</p><p>“Who are you and what have you done with Kolby Scott?” Mark laughed. “Seriously though, I don’t know a whole lot. And it’s all second hand so take it with a grain of pepper.”</p><p>“Salt.”</p><p>“Whatever. All I know is they got it from a girl in a mask calling herself some flower name. Don’t remember what it was.”</p><p>“That’s hella weird,” Kolby muttered, turning towards the entrance hall where the nurse’s office was.</p><p>“I know, right?” Mark sounded a little gleeful. “It’s like we’re getting our own supervillains. First we get our own hero, and now she’s actually gonna have someone to fight!” </p><p>“I don’t think we really want to celebrate a bunch of grown ass women selling drugs to kids,” Kolby admonished. </p><p>Mark shook his head. “Nah, the girl was our age, they said.”</p><p>That, Kolby thought, didn’t sound good at all. “Well, I’ll keep my eye out for any masked girls selling off-brand Country Time lemonade.” </p><p>Kolby lied through her teeth to the nurse when they arrived at her office, claiming dehydration. She and Mark sat around for the rest of the period drinking water and surfing twitter on their phones. She considered contacting Bruce to let him know, but decided against it. She had nothing but vague third-hand accounts of a single girl in a weird mask selling drugs. That wasn’t exactly enough to get the League moving.</p><p>She’d keep her ear out though, just in case.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, Sugar Daddy Bruce, I was wondering when you were going to show up.</p><p>In my original document, the letter he sent her had a fun font to differentiate it from the rest of the chapter, but ao3 won't let me have that kind of fun.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. So, don't you fall back asleep for this moment Just be, I wanna get it right for once</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You want me to what?”</p><p>Clark had to have misheard her. There was no way Aria just asked him that. Well...actually, considering her ability to ask things of him no one else would have dared to, there certainly was a way. That didn’t stop the heat from rising to his face, though.</p><p>“I’m not asking you to get naked,” Aria insisted, pulling away from the light she was adjusting. “Just undo a few buttons.” She walked up to him, apparently unaware of his embarrassment. She tapped the top button of his shirt lightly, dragging her finger down his chest. “One, two, three...three buttons should be good.”</p><p>“What’s the prompt for this week, again?” he asked.</p><p>“Commercial photography,” Aria explained, taking her hand back. “We were given products at random to create an advertisement for. I got perfume. Most perfume ads are, in my opinion, needlessly sexual and generally don’t have anything to do with the product. Though, I suppose smelling nice is a part of sex appeal, evolutionarily speaking, so perhaps they’re not needlessly sexual. But the point still stands.” </p><p>“Alright, alright,” Clark said. “I suppose you have a point.”</p><p>Aria stared at him, blatantly studying him. “If you’re not comfortable with the idea, we can try something else. This was just my first instinct.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Clark said. “I think I was mostly just surprised.”</p><p>“Well, look at it this way,” Aria said, a Cheshire smile tugging at her lips, “you’ll have practice for when we do the nude shoot in two weeks.” </p><p>Clark chuckled nervously. “You’re right. Before we start, I’m going to run to the restroom.”</p><p>“Sure,” Aria said with a shrug, already turning back to her lights. “Back up the hall to your left.”</p><p>Clark grabbed his bag on the way out. Hopefully she didn’t mistake his missing bag for him having abandoned her, but he really needed a place to stuff his Superman costume. The fact that he hid his identity so thinly under his usual clothes was probably what had made him panic as much as he had. He really did need to come up with a better way of doing that. </p><p>The bathroom was thankfully deserted; while changing outfits in the bathroom probably wasn’t all that rare in an art school like this, it wasn’t something Clark necessarily wanted anyone to know he was doing. </p><p>He returned to the studio to find Aria pushing a leather chaise lounge onto the background tarp. Where on earth did she get these things? Silly question, he realized, her school probably supplied any props and furniture the students needed. At least he hoped that’s how it worked. He’d feel bad if Aria had to pay for furniture out of her own pocket for these shoots. </p><p>Pleased with the placement of the lounge, Aria turned to him, her hands going to the camera around her neck. “Welcome back. Why did you take your bag with you?”</p><p>Clark suppressed a wince. He’d been caught. “I wanted somewhere to put my undershirt, that’s all.” </p><p>Aria seemed to take him at his word. “Alright. Are you ready?”</p><p>Clark shrugged out of his blazer, a coy smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose I will be in a moment.” </p><p>Clark could feel Aria’s eyes on him as he undid the buttons on his shirt as ordered. Was she making sure he was only going as far as she told him, or was there some other reason for the intensity of her gaze? He found himself hoping it was the latter, which surprised him. </p><p>“How’s this?” he asked, pulling his hands away from his shirt with great effort. </p><p>Aria said nothing, just nodding. Her grip on her camera was tighter than normal. Her eyes remained on him the entire time he moved towards the lounge. He made himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be given the circumstances. Aria stepped towards him, reaching a hand out. She froze however, and Clark watched as her eyes darted around slightly, a sign she was thinking hard about something. </p><p>“May I touch you?” she asked, her voice edging on breathy. </p><p>“I’ve already given you my permission,” Clark said, confused by her need to ask again.</p><p>Aria shook her head, taking back her hand. “The circumstances are different. I need to ask you again. May I touch you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Clark swallowed down a gasp as her hand splayed across his chest, spreading the fabric of his shirt open wider. Her hand was cool against his skin, sending goosebumps down his arms. She hesitated, and Clark read the surprise on her face. Aria might have claimed he was aesthetically perfect, but she hadn’t realized how right she was. </p><p>She touched his lips next, tugging slightly at the bottom one with her thumb. “Mouth open, just a bit. Actually, wait right there.” </p><p>Clark refused to move, lest he ruin her careful posing of his body. He heard her, however, rustling in the vanity drawers by the door. The studios were well stocked with anything a photographer might need, including make up. Aria came back a moment later, holding a tube of something translucent and barely-there pink. </p><p>“Hold still,” she said. She dabbed something thick and sweet-smelling on his lips. “There, that’s better. They were looking a little dry before. I should have thought about it when I was doing your makeup before.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Clark murmured, resisting the urge to lick his lips as Aria’s hands carded through his hair. “What was that, exactly?”</p><p>“Lip gloss,” Aria explained, tilting Clark’s head back against the arm of the lounge. “To make you look...I think the word I’m looking for is ‘kissable’, but that’s just what they say on tv.” </p><p>Clark chuckled, using it to hide a shiver when Aria’s fingers brushed briefly against his neck as she reached for his shoulders. She pushed him back against the lounge, until he was practically laying on it like a fainted Victorian lady. She reached for her camera, taking a few quick shots from an intimately close angle. </p><p>Clark blinked, and suddenly Aria was towering over him, one foot on either side of his hips on the chaise. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry that her sock-clad feet might slip on the slick leather. His worries were, luckily, unfounded, and Aria snapped her shots without issue.</p><p>She stopped, her expression heavy with thought. She glanced back at the vanities, and Clark found himself wishing he had telepathy along with all his other powers. Aria climbed down from the chaise, her hand firm on his knee to keep from falling. </p><p>He watched her, breaking the pose she’d settled him into despite holding it before. Why did he do that? Why did he need to keep his eyes on her? It reminded him of how he used to watch Lois walk away from him when he first arrived in Metropolis. He used to feel like he’d move heaven and earth for Lois. When did that feeling stop?</p><p>Aria was approaching him again, her lips sporting a new, brilliant red color. It looked strange on her, especially with Clark so used to seeing her without any makeup what-so-ever. The color contrasted so strongly with the verdant green of her eyes. “Aria?” </p><p>“I apologize in advance for the discomfort this might cause you,” Aria said, her posture stiff with anxiety. “I wasn’t sure how else to make this work.”</p><p>Before Clark could ask what that meant, Aria leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, just barely missing the corner of his mouth. Clark didn’t even have the chance to register what had just happened before Aria was once again hiding her face from him with her camera, the flash leaving spots behind his eyelids. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>Aria lowered her camera, and Clark could see that her cheeks were also turning red. “I...thought it would make sense to put a kiss mark on your cheek. You know, to sell the sexuality of it more. I wasn’t sure how else to do it. Though... I suppose I could have just added it in post with Photoshop. Oh god, I’m so sorry, Clark! I didn’t even think about editing!”</p><p> </p><p>Aria dropped her camera at the first sign of blurring at the edge of her vision. It swung heavily on the strap around her neck, but she didn’t care. She was too busy hiding her face in shame. She’d fucked up. She’d fucked up so bad. Why hadn’t she thought just a little bit harder before deciding that kissing Clark was the way to go? Why hadn’t she been just a little more rational about the whole thing? What was it about Clark that made her act so crazy?</p><p>“I’m sorry, Clark. I’m so, so sorry.” She struggled to breathe as the panic and anxiety set in, her chest tightening around her heart and lungs. “I crossed a huge line and I can’t take it back, I’m so sorry. I-I have to go. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Aria, wait!” </p><p>Clark moved with a speed that Aria didn’t realize he possessed, a too-tight grip wrapping around her wrist before she’d even managed to make it halfway across the room. She struggled against him, but stopped when she saw the flicker of a red glow across her skin. She couldn’t have him knowing that about her. Not yet, at any rate. She let herself be pulled into his arms, finding calm in the firm gentleness of his embrace. He was warm, and his steady heartbeat against her ear soothed her own. </p><p>“It’s okay, Aria,” he said, his voice quiet and calming. “I’m not angry at you.”</p><p>Aria froze. He wasn’t? Why not? She’d crossed a major boundary. There was no way they could just forget that happened. She already had a hard time controlling her feelings for him, keeping herself content with their almost-date dinners. She didn’t know if she could continue hiding if he allowed this to continue.</p><p>“You’re not?” she asked, so quiet she wasn’t even sure he could hear her. </p><p>“I’m not,” he reassured. </p><p>But, why not? No, that wasn’t something you just asked someone, lest you wanted them actually mad at you. It wouldn’t do her any good to question Clark’s kindness at this juncture. She’d keep that question to herself, an easy enough thing to do. She’d grown up keeping things to herself, after all. What was one more thing?</p><p>“Okay,” she said, taking several deep breaths. “Okay. Still, I’m sorry. I broke my rule. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I accept your apology,” Clark said, a little insistent this time. “Do you want to keep going?”</p><p>Aria couldn’t help but chuckle. “I feel like I should be asking you that.”</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about me,” Clark said with a smile. “I’m pretty resilient.” </p><p>Aria took in a deep breath, willing her heart to steady and her chest to open back up for her. “Alright, but let’s try something different.”</p><p>She pulled several bed sheets out of a box, laying them on the floor of the backdrop. “Lay here, please.” </p><p>Clark did as he was told, wondering what she was going for this time. Aria knelt beside him, and his vision was filled with denim-clad legs. She leaned forward, the tips of her long, brown hair tickling his face. </p><p>“May I touch you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>She took hold of one of his arms, lifting it over his head. She took hold of his jaw next, turning his face to the side and putting the lipstick mark on full display. She pushed his shirt open once more before standing, situating her feet on either side of his hips. She lifted the camera to her face.</p><p>“Mouth open and eyes on me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Hit me hard enough to wake me, And lead me wild to your dark roads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aria pulled her hair back, ponytail holder in her mouth, as she and her friends listened to the police scanner that sat atop her dresser. It was kind of concerning how easily someone could get their hands on one. Aria had picked this one up online for like, twenty bucks or something. </p><p>“There doesn’t seem to be much going on,” Carmen, Layla’s roommate, mentioned casually. “Are you sure Superman is going to be out and about?”</p><p>“You weren’t here the last few times,” Layla said from her position lounging on Aria’s bed. “There’s been a string of robberies. Aria thinks that the next one will be this afternoon.” </p><p>“How do you know?” Carmen asked. “Also, do you need me to do your makeup again, or do you got it?”</p><p>“I could still use some help with the contouring,” Aria said, slipping a set of grey-colored contacts on. They weren’t great; some of Aria’s natural green still showed through in a more muted shade, but it was what she could afford. “And they’ve been striking around this time every three days for the last two weeks. The target is a bit up in the air, since it’s been a different kind of high-end target each time, but I should still be okay so long as I’m in the air when the call comes in. Besides, he promised to meet me.” </p><p>As Layla made that ‘oooh’ sound one made when they heard particularly good gossip, Carmen came over with the specific contouring palette they insisted on using for the Spectrum Look™. Aria had to use the same shade every time, Carmen insisted, or else the ‘mask’ would be inconsistent and someone would find out.</p><p>Well, someone beyond Carmen and Layla.</p><p>Aria had gone to them the moment she’d found out about her powers. Well, no. Actually she went to them several hours after finding out about her powers, because whatever magic something-or-other that bopped her on the head that day had decided to wait about 12 hours and wake her up at 3 in the morning with a fever. </p><p>And then she destroyed her sink with her new super powers. That was a fun thing to try and explain away to the maintenance crew. </p><p>But Carmen and Layla were the first ones she called once it was a decent time. </p><p>“Maybe I should give you a lip look this time,” Carmen mused, blending the contour into her skin. “What do you think?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t that call attention to the fact I’m wearing makeup in the first place?” Aria asked. “Isn’t the whole point to keep this as natural looking as possible and bank on the fact most men don’t recognize that natural makeup looks still use layers upon layers of makeup?”</p><p>Carmen hummed, a little disappointed. “Yeah, you’re right. Still, it’d look cute on you. One of these days you’ll have to let me go all out.” </p><p>“I make no promises,” Aria said, trying really hard to not twitch as the eyeliner pen approached her eye to create her beauty mark. </p><p>“You did really good with the whole look anyway, Carmen,” Layla said. “I can’t believe you whipped up that costume in less than a week.”</p><p>Carmen grinned sardonically. “It’s amazing what you can do when you work thirty-six hours straight and live off energy drinks and Jamba Juice.”  </p><p>“You should really stop that,” Aria said flatly. “It’s not good for you.”</p><p>They shrugged, rolling their eyes a bit. “I’ll stop once I have my own label. Then I’ll just have my minions doing all the work. I’ll be the Devil that Wears Prada.”</p><p>“You hate Prada,” Layla pointed out. </p><p>“Shush.” </p><p>It only took a few more moments for Spectrum to be ready. She stood in the middle of her room, looking to her friends for approval. Carmen gave her an approving nod while Layla held two thumbs up with a silly grin on her face. Layla was far more enthusiastic about this than Spectrum herself was. </p><p>Oh well, they all had their fandoms.</p><p>Aria opened the door to her little Juliet balcony and let herself take on an indigo glow. “I’ll be back later. Keep an eye on the news for me.”</p><p>“I will like every clip of you that pops up on youtube,” Layla promised.</p><p>“...Don’t do that.” </p><p>Spectrum took off into the sky, wobbling a little as she ascended. She still had trouble with the mechanics of flight, but she was getting better. Superman wanted to meet on top of the Daily Planet. That seemed a little odd. Why would Superman want to meet at a newspaper office? Then again, it was one of the most iconic buildings in Metropolis. Even if she didn’t know the names of any of the other skyscrapers in the city (and she didn’t, despite going to school here for going on three years), it was hard to not know the Daily Planet building. </p><p>Superman was already there, standing atop the short ledge that encircled the building’s roof. As she came in, she once again wobbled. Landing was the worst of it. It was one thing when she was actually going to the ground, but the tops of buildings like this? That was finicky, and Spectrum wasn’t very good with finicky yet. She dropped a little too suddenly, and Superman reached out and took hold of her hand. </p><p>Spectrum marveled at the warmth of it for a moment, which she could feel even through the thick fabric of her gloves. She let him settle her on the ledge before dropping the indigo glow. “Thank you. I’m still getting used to this.” </p><p>“I was the same way,” Superman said, clearly trying to reassure her. “Though I left far more craters than I bet you do.” </p><p>Spectrum thought for a moment. “Depending on one’s definition of a crater, I might have one under my metaphorical belt.” </p><p>Superman let out a warm bark of a laugh. “Oh yeah. I’ve got you beat by a country mile.” </p><p>He paused, tilting his head. Spectrum watched, curious if he was listening for something. She’d hoped that they would be given more time to simply talk. Superman was a fascinating character. An alien from another world on the other side of the galaxy that had long been destroyed. What sort of life did he lead outside of this heroing business? Did he have a home? A family? He never mentioned anything like that, but one would have to keep such things a secret. </p><p>As Spectrum pondered, Superman tapped her shoulder to grab her attention. “We’ve got to go. Those bandits of yours have jacked an armored car.”</p><p>Immediately her indigo hue returned. “Let’s get to it, then.” </p><p> </p><p>While Spectrum hadn’t gotten a handle on landing, she’d certainly learned how to fly fast. Trying to keep up with Superman these past couple of weeks had taught her that much. And they had to go fast in order to catch up with the thieves in the stolen armored car. </p><p>Superman had been letting her take the lead on how to first engage with the criminals, gauging her reactions and instincts. This encounter was the same, letting Spectrum fly up alongside the car. One orange laser to the tires, and the armored car was careening to a stop. </p><p>Spectrum paused, waiting to see what the people inside would do next. The doors opened just a bit, and for a moment she hoped that the carjacking thieves would surrender peacefully.</p><p>But then she saw the automatic weapons.</p><p>She threw up her hands, calling on her yellow shields to protect her. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel the hollow impact -- that strange, echo-like sensation when something struck her shields -- but it never came. </p><p>Opening her eyes, she found her vision filled with the red fabric of Superman’s cape. He’d moved to protect her. Why? Didn’t he remember her shields? Or maybe it hadn’t mattered. Superman would always put himself between people and danger, no matter who the person was. </p><p>“I’ve had just about enough of this,” Superman said, his voice booming in a way Spectrum hadn’t heard quite yet. He always spoke to her in such a gentle manner. This was what Superman sounded like when he was really being Superman. </p><p>Spectrum ducked around Superman’s massive frame, her glow turning blue as she slung chunks of ice at the guns. With the barrels surrounded and blocked up with ice, there was little the robbers could do with them now. Superman darted forward faster than Spectrum’s eyes could follow, snatching the robbers by the back of their shirts. He knocked their heads together, knocking them both out. </p><p>“I’ll check to see if there’s anyone else in the truck,” Spectrum offered, her glow changing to yellow as a precaution. </p><p>Superman nodded, hanging onto the unconscious thieves for the moment. Spectrum stuck her head into the cab, not finding anyone else there. There were, however, several more guns. She froze those as well, just in case. With nothing in the cab, she went around back. The door was unlocked, which she assumed was unusual for an armored car. But this one had been stolen, so that was probably the reason. It might not have even been full when the thieves took off with it. </p><p>She was reaching for the door when she heard Superman’s panicked shout. “Spectrum! Wait!”</p><p>Spectrum paused for only a moment before she felt the dull echoes of impact before something pushed her back. Before her eyes, the back of the truck exploded in a ball of fire. Even through her shield, she could feel the heat. It was enough to break her focus, and the force of the explosion threw her back. She hit the ground, and her glow faded.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. when I met you, my virtues uncounted, all of my goodness is going with you now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pain was the first thing Spectrum recognized when she came to. Deep, throbbing pain in the back of her head. She must have hit the ground without her shield up, she realized. Well, that was embarrassing. </p><p>The second thing she recognized was that while she might have hit the ground, she was definitely not on the ground now. In fact, someone was holding her. </p><p>She blinked, squinting against the bright Metropolis sunlight. Or, what little Metropolis sunlight she could see around Superman’s very close and very concerned face. Spectrum froze, forcing down a surprised squeak at her sudden faceful of handsome alien superhero.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked. Spectrum was suddenly very aware of his warm, muscular arms around her shoulders and under her legs. Not only was he holding her, he was carrying her like a princess...or like all those girls in shoujo anime. She silently begged herself not to blush. It probably didn’t work.</p><p>“I...could be better,” she said. “I would say I’ve been worse, but I’m not sure if I have. My head hurts.”</p><p>Superman nodded. He looked up, and called for someone in the near-distance. Spectrum glanced over and saw a large crowd gathered around. Reporters with notepads or microphones shouted questions at anyone who came near. Their camera-carrying partners stared, attempting to capture every moment. Police officers mingled about, along with paramedics. One came over, having been called by Superman. </p><p>Superman set her down on the curb, letting the paramedic approach. </p><p>“Hi, there,” the paramedic said gently, reaching up with a gloved hand. “Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?”</p><p>“I call myself Spectrum,” Spectrum said, choosing her words carefully. “And I’m at a crime scene in Metropolis. I’ve recently had a head injury.”</p><p>“Excellent. Well, it already sounds like you’re going to be okay, but I’m going to run a few tests just in case, okay?”</p><p>Spectrum felt Superman’s eyes on her the entire time the paramedic ran the tests. She hoped this screw up didn’t mean he didn’t want her to work with him anymore. She’d already been warned about her heart murmur (and she still had to wait a while before the doctor had an opening for her). No, that’d be silly. If Superman tried to stop every hero from heroing when they got hurt, there’d be no more heroes left. </p><p>“Okay, you look good,” the paramedic said, smiling winningly as he tucked his flashlight away. “Thanks for sitting through all that, I know it’s no fun.”</p><p>“Actually, you’d be surprised how often a cranial nerve exam is used for ASMR purposes,” Spectrum said distractedly. </p><p>The paramedic’s smile widened a bit. “Huh. A fun fact indeed.” He stood, reaching down to offer her his hand. Spectrum reached out to take it, but Superman caught her hand instead. </p><p>“I’ve got her,” he said, his voice mild but firm. Spectrum glanced up at him, confused. Why did it matter who helped her up? </p><p>“Sure thing, Superman,” the paramedic said, reading the room. “Thanks for all you two do.”</p><p>He walked off, leaving Spectrum and Superman to their own devices. Spectrum stood, using Superman’s hand as leverage. He didn’t even budge as she put most of her wait on him. </p><p>“He could have helped me just fine,” Spectrum murmured.</p><p>“He had a prosthetic leg,” Superman replied, his voice also low. “While I can’t be certain, there are a kind of people who use circumstances like that to sue heroes.”</p><p>That surprised Spectrum -- not that people sued heroes, but the fact that it was Superman who brought it up. “I’m surprised to hear something so cynical from you.”</p><p>“I guess you could say Batman is rubbing off on me,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been.</p><p>There was so much for Spectrum to learn about the world of superheroes, things that went far beyond powers and how to throw a punch. She tried to figure out how she could end up being sued, and her mind eventually landed on the man stumbling back and falling, breaking his prosthetic in the process somehow. He could later claim she pushed him. It felt stupid to even think about someone pulling something like that, but people could be duplicitous. Herself included. “I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>“You’re still learning,” Superman said, clearly thinking she was taking his warning as a criticism. “Heck, I’m still learning. You never really stop in a job like this.”</p><p>He set a reassuring hand on her shoulder, the warmth radiating down her back. She simply nodded, glancing towards the cameras. There’d be plenty of clips for Layla to watch, she thought. Then, as she was scanning through the press line, she caught sight of Lois and Jimmy. </p><p>Lois did not look pleased. </p><p>It was an open secret that Lois Lane had a Thing™ for Superman. Half of her articles were written about him. She’d won a Pulitzer with one of those articles. And for a while it seemed like Superman also had a thing for Lois. Seeing him now with another woman -- a woman with powers not unlike his own -- probably made her blood boil. She was being replaced with a fancier model. Or, at least, it could be seen as such.</p><p>Spectrum turned to Superman. “I need to go. Do I need to stay for anything else?”</p><p>“The police might want your statement,” Superman said, waving an officer over. “But you can probably go after that. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”</p><p>“Mostly fine. I’ll have to take something for this headache,” she said. “But mostly I’m just nervous about...that.” She tilted her head in the direction of the cameras.</p><p>Superman smiled, squeezing her shoulder. “I understand. We’re almost done here.” </p><p>Spectrum gave the officer her statement as quickly and as thoroughly as she could. She kept her eyes on his badge, memorizing the number to distract herself from the cameras and Lois’ steely gaze. </p><p>“Alright, I think we’re done here,” Superman said as the officer walked away. He smiled at her, and Spectrum couldn’t help but think it felt familiar. “Shame you’re not feeling well. We don’t get much time to just talk. I’d love to pick your brain about your abilities.”</p><p>Spectrum shuffled her feet nervously. “I could say the same thing. Perhaps next time.”</p><p>Superman started to nod, but stopped, something clearly coming to mind. “You know, I could put in a good word for you with the Justice League. I think someone like you could do a lot of good, and it’d be good for you to have those resources available to you.”</p><p>Spectrum’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t even considered the Justice League. Was she actually ready to join? She didn’t think so. “Are you certain?”</p><p>“Why not?” Superman asked. “I know for a fact that Batman is considering introducing a new hero as well. It’d be good for the two of you to start around the same time.”</p><p>“I’ll...consider it.”</p><p>He nodded, that familiar, gentle smile still present. “Take your time. Go ahead and head home. I’ll work the crowd so you can slip away.”</p><p>Spectrum took off before Superman even made it to the pressline. She had many things to consider now. Many, many things.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the delay in posting, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I still have quite a bit still written (though I've had a hard time adding to it as of late), so hopefully I'll be able to be more consistent with posting for a while.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. A Set of Eyes Had Pinned Him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clark glanced up at the row of clocks on the wall, feeling apprehensive as they ticked over to the next hour. Aria was late. Aria was never late. She was either meticulously on time, or early, but never late. Or had she come in, but was just avoiding him? He glanced around, seeing through walls and floors. </p><p>No Aria. Why wasn’t she here? Was this about what happened at the last photo shoot? Was she still embarrassed? Did she think he hated her now? Clark might not fully understand how he felt towards her, but he certainly didn’t hate her!</p><p>Lois passed by while he was deep in thought, and he called out to her. “Hey, Lois, have you heard from Aria today?”</p><p>Lois eyed him suspiciously, irritation tugging her lips downward. “No, I haven’t. But it’s not like I would. She doesn’t report to me.” </p><p>“Oh. Right. Nevermind then.” Clark avoided looking at Lois directly as she huffed and walked off. Seemed that Aria was a bit of a sore subject for her after their confrontation a couple of months ago. </p><p>Clark stood from his desk, knowing he’d never get any work done in this state. He found himself wandering down to the photography bullpen, catching sight of Jimmy at his desk. Perfect! Jimmy was Aria’s mentor at the Daily Planet. If anyone knew where she was, it’d be him.</p><p>“Hey, Jimmy, have you heard from Aria today?” Clark asked, leaning over the cubicle wall.</p><p>Jimmy looked up, confused for a moment. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, she had a doctor’s appointment today. Said she didn’t know if she’d make it in.” </p><p>“Doctor’s appointment? Is she alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “She didn’t say it was anything major, anyway.”</p><p>Clark frowned. Now he knew why she was gone, but that didn’t leave him feeling any better. A doctor’s appointment didn’t have to be about anything bad, but Aria was from out of town. If she was just going in for an annual physical, one would think she’d wait until she could go home over break. </p><p>“You know,” Jimmy said, “you have her number. You could just call her if you’re so worried.” </p><p>He could, but he didn’t want to come across as overbearing. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jimmy. Thanks, pal!”</p><p>Clark returned to his desk, and attempted to focus on his work. He found it difficult, his mind wandering back to Aria, and what had happened at the last photo shoot. She’d kissed him. Not full on the mouth, or anything like that, but still. And he hadn’t been mad about it. In fact, he’d been almost thrilled behind the shock. He liked Aria. And that was a problem.</p><p>Regardless of who was her direct supervisor, Aria was still an intern and Clark was still a senior staff reporter. That power disparity wasn’t something they could just ignore. Clark knew what some of the men in the office said around the water cooler about the young female interns that came through the Daily Planet, and it disgusted him that he could be contributing to such a mindset by even considering pursuing a relationship with Aria at this juncture. </p><p>And if he did pursue that sort of relationship with her, she’d eventually find out he was Superman. That could lead to its own problems: including the fact that tabloids, and even the gossip and editorial sections of the Daily Planet, were speculating on a budding relationship between Superman and Spectrum. He couldn’t bear the idea of any person he wanted to share his life with feeling inadequate compared to whatever hero the internet decided he was kissing behind the scenes. </p><p>“Clark?”</p><p>Clark whirled around in his seat, his eyes landing on an unusually demure-looking Aria. Her hands clutched at the strap of her camera bag with white-knuckle intensity. It reminded Clark of the first time they’d spoken, but far less self-assured. He stood, and Aria seemed confused by the relief that was likely plastered on his face.</p><p>“Aria! I heard from Jimmy you were at the doctor’s. Are you alright?”</p><p>Surprised by his concern, Aria nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. May I speak with you? Privately?” </p><p>Relief turned back into concern at the request, but Clark acquiesced with a nod. “Of course. Where…?”</p><p>“Follow me.” Without waiting for an answer, Aria turned and headed towards the stairs. Usually, in a building as tall as the Daily Planet office, the stairs were reserved for emergencies or for particularly zealous health fiends. It was, however, the only way to access the roof. Clark felt a small kernel of dread settle in his stomach at that realization as Aria led him up higher and higher. </p><p>“Aria?” Clark called, concern edging into his tone. “Where are you taking me?” </p><p>Aria didn’t answer him, continuing to climb the stairs. </p><p>“Aria, please, if something is wrong, let me help you.”</p><p>Aria paused, hesitating at his words. Clark could see her physically steel herself, and she continued her climb. Eventually, they reached the top of the stairs, and Aria pushed open the roof access door. </p><p>The Daily Planet was one of the oldest skyscrapers in Metropolis, which meant it was protected by historical societies. It, unlike many other buildings its height, did not have a protective fence to prevent people from jumping.   </p><p>“Aria!” Clark called again. Aria simply turned and smiled at him, holding out her camera bag. He took it. He could feel his whole body tense in preparation for what might happen next. </p><p>“I’ve got something I need to tell you, Clark,” Aria said, setting a foot on the knee-high barrier around the edge of the building. “I hope you will forgive the dramatics.”</p><p>She pushed herself up on the edge of the barrier wall, but instead of moving forwards, she went backwards. Clark’s eyes went wide as her body took on an indigo glow, and Aria hovered just inches above the roof. </p><p>“You’re…”</p><p>“I’m Spectrum, yes,” Aria said, and Clark could see a bit of desperation in her eyes. She turned her eyes away with a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know why, but I’d convinced myself that telling you this would make you reciprocate my feelings. It looks like I’ve made a fool out of myself again. I’m sorry.” </p><p>She lowered herself to the roof, the glow fading. She refused to meet his gaze, and Clark found himself stumbling over what to say. How could he not have known? How could he not have noticed all the similarities? He’d known that Spectrum reminded him of someone, and now, in retrospect, it seemed so obvious. He couldn’t believe how a little bit of makeup made her look like a totally different person. </p><p>But, he was starting to figure out how to make her feel better. He handed her the camera bag. Curious, she lifted her head, her face turning brilliant read as Clark started to unbutton his shirt.</p><p>“M-Mr. Kent?!” </p><p>“Aria,” Clark chided gently, pulling open his shirt to reveal his Superman costume beneath it, “I’ve told you to call me Clark.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. I've been Waiting for You to Come Around and Tell Me the Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aria followed Clark through the crowded Metropolis streets, unsure of what exactly was happening. Clark had asked her to wait for him after her shift was up, as he wanted to speak with her but didn’t have the time to do so then. She didn’t have any other classes that day, nor any pressing work to do, so she had settled herself at the little coffee shop next to the Daily Planet and waited. She’d waited for hours, going through several cups of tea of varying varieties, before Clark emerged from the building. </p><p>And now, she found herself entering an apartment building with him, riding the elevator up many, many floors. Was this his apartment building? It had to be, right? Why would he take her to any other apartment? She felt like she was going to be sick. </p><p>“We’re here,” Clark said, leading her to a black, wooden door. He pulled out a key from his pocket, and opened the door to let her in. </p><p>The studio apartment was small, but not unreasonably so, with the entire far wall being made up of glass windows that even stretched over the roof. Honestly, Aria thought it was rather nice. The natural light would be amazing for photos. </p><p>“Make yourself comfortable,” Clark insisted gently, closing the door behind them. “I’m going to order takeout. How do you feel about Chinese?”</p><p>Aria, feeling too nervous to eat, said, “That’s fine.”</p><p>Clark’s smile was kind, if not tinged with a bit of pity that made Aria uncomfortable. “Any requests?”</p><p>“I like steamed dumplings.” Where normally Aria would find herself rambling incessantly because of her nerves, today she could barely spit out a single sentence. She decided she preferred the rambling. </p><p>Clark disappeared into the kitchen to make the call, and Aria settled herself on the couch. It was comfy. She picked up one of the throw pillows, hugging it to her chest. She felt like crying. Surely Clark had just brought her here to let her down easy. But would he be so cruel as to drag it out all day instead of telling her right off? Aria didn’t think so, but she had to admit she didn’t really know Clark well enough to figure that sort of thing out. </p><p>Clearly, since she had no idea he was Superman.</p><p>No, she thought, she couldn’t really beat herself up about that. Clark clearly had no idea she was Spectrum and the man had like, five kinds of super-vision. Carmen must have been way more of a makeup whiz than they let on. </p><p>Ugh, she just wanted the earth to swallow her up so she didn’t have to deal with this. Why did she think revealing herself as a superhero was going to change anything? Just because Lois and half the Daily Planet staff soaked their panties any time Superman was mentioned didn’t mean Clark was the same. And that was true even before she found out Clark was Superman. </p><p>Clark returned some moments later, and Aria scooted all the way to the far end of the couch, curling up to avoid looking at him or touching him. She could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, which only made her feel guilty. </p><p>She opened her mouth to apologize to him, but Clark beat her to it.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Aria. I’ve made you anxious, haven’t I?</p><p>Aria wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow she’d claimed as hers. “I’m always anxious.”</p><p>“I promise, Aria, it’s not as bad as you think.”</p><p>“I think I just want to crawl under your bed and let the universe eat me, thanks,” Aria mumbled, resting her chin on top of her pillow.</p><p>“Aria, please.” He kept saying her name, and it made her feel all weird and fuzzy. That spark of hope she’d snuffed out at the photo shoot roared back to life, filling her stomach with smokey butterflies. It gave her courage, just enough to finally get it all off of her chest.</p><p>“Clark, I have feelings for you,” she said, finally turning to face him. She let her posture relax, dropping the pillow into her lap and opening herself up to him. “I asked you to be my model because you sparked something creative in me, yes, but also because I had a crush on you. I have since I first came to Metropolis and read your work for the Planet. I knew I had to work there with you. When the internship happened to align with the exclusive model project, I just had to seize the opportunity. I think I’m in love with you, Clark. And if you don’t share those feelings, I understand, but please just tell me!” </p><p>Clark listened to her so attentively the whole time she rambled, his expression that of gentle understanding. Aria kind of hated it. It was too neutral -- and too close to pity -- for her comfort. When she was done and gasping for air as she tried not to cry, he reached out and took one of her hands in his. </p><p>“You’re wonderful, Aria,” he said, and his words made Aria’s heart seize. “You’re sweet, and smart, and I love watching you work.”</p><p>“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Aria muttered, staring at Clark’s hand engulfing her own.</p><p>“Because of my position at the Planet as senior staff, we can’t have that sort of relationship,” Clark explained. </p><p>Aria felt herself grow cold inside, the spark of hope dying in the sudden chill. She pulled her hand away from Clark’s. “I understand. I should go.”</p><p>She stood to leave, only to have Clark catch her hand once more.</p><p>“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, pulling her back down. She ended up much closer to him this time, their knees bumping each other as she practically fell back onto the couch cushions. “We can’t have that sort of relationship right now.”</p><p>Aria stared up at him, her eyes wide. “But later…”</p><p>Clark nodded. “After your internship ends, we can give it a try. Is that okay with you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Aria said, feeling breathless. “Yes, that’s more than okay with me.” </p><p> </p><p>Dinner came, and Aria, feeling emboldened by the whole ‘not being rejected’ thing, found herself leaning up against Clark as they ate and watched tv. Clark liked home and garden shows, it seemed. She found it charming when he grumbled about the host doing something he deemed wrong. </p><p>His phone rang at one point, and Aria was surprised when he pulled out a phone she wasn’t familiar with. This one was thinner than his usual phone, and didn’t have a case on it. The light reflected off of the screen in a weird, chromatic way. </p><p>“This is Clark,” he said, answering the phone. “No, Bruce, I’m not at work. Mmhm. Mmhm.” </p><p>Aria continued to lean against him, her attention on his phone conversation rather than the show on tv. He glanced down at her, noticing the dumpling container chilling out in her lap. He pointed to them and then opened his mouth with a quiet ‘ahhh’. </p><p>Aria giggled, apparently loud enough to be heard on the other end, as the person that Clark was talking to -- Bruce, apparently -- started asking if someone was there. </p><p>“What? No, of course not,” Clark lied cheerfully. Aria reached up to feed him his requested dumpling with her chopsticks, and Clark hid his laugh behind his newly-acquired mouthful of food. “Bruce, your paranoia is getting the better of you.”</p><p>“So the CCTV footage of you entering the building with a young woman who looks remarkably like the young woman you agreed to let photograph you naked is a lie?”</p><p>Aria choked on her own bite of food, coughing loudly. Clark passed her a glass of water, which she chugged desperately. She shot Clark a ‘what the fuck’ look, feeling a little panicked. Who the hell was he talking to, and how could they access the CCTV footage for Clark’s apartment building?</p><p>Clark held his phone away from his ear, covering the microphone with his hand. “I’m sorry, it’s Batman. It’s just how he is.”</p><p>Batman?! Batman was on the phone? Well, Aria supposed it made sense. Both were in the Justice League, and they often worked together even outside of League business. It would make sense for the two of them to have a more casual way of contacting each other.</p><p>Clark wrapped an arm around Aria’s shoulders, pulling her back into place against him. “Bruce, it’s really not any of your business. I don’t lecture you about all the women you bring home to keep up your cover, now do I?” </p><p>Aria listened on as she continued to eat her dumplings, feeling a little odd about the whole thing. Why was Batman so concerned about her being in Clark’s apartment? And why was he so hung up about the nude photos? Did he not realize that artistic nudes existed? Aria scowled; of course Batman had no appreciation for art. That was just so typical. </p><p>“Bruce, I’m trying to enjoy a nice evening,” Clark eventually said, sounding tired. “Can you yell at me about this later?” </p><p>Batman said something that Aria couldn’t hear, and Clark hung up, tossing the phone back onto his mattress behind them. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Aria assured him, setting her now empty container on the coffee table. She settled back against him, finding comfort in the way his arm wrapped around her. “He’s probably just worried about you. I’m sure to a lot of people, posing nude for any kind of art is kind of odd.” </p><p>Clark made a humming sound of acknowledgement, pressing his nose into Aria’s hair. Aria contained a giggle. It seemed that Clark was already breaking his ‘not now because work dynamics’ rule. Aria couldn’t bring herself to mind. She’d always been a little touch starved, and Clark was just so warm and gentle. </p><p>“Is your shampoo lemon scented?” Clark asked suddenly, deciding to avoid the topic of Batman all together.</p><p>“No, but it does include lemongrass oil,” Aria said. “That might be what you’re smelling.” </p><p>Clark hummed again, more of a soft rumble against her back than an actual sound. “It smells good.” </p><p>“Good to know.”</p><p>Clark pulled his face away from her hair, looking down at her with curiosity. Aria tilted her head back against his shoulder to peer up at him in return. He wanted to kiss her, but decided against it. He was already breaking his own rule with how close they were cuddling, it was best to keep from crossing that next line. </p><p>Instead, he asked her the question that had been bothering him all day. “Jimmy said you were at a doctor’s appointment. What was it about?” </p><p>“My heart murmur,” she said, reaching up to clutch at Clark’s hand with her own. “I had to wait a while to get in to the specialist, but they took a look at me. I had an MRI, which is why I was so late for work.”</p><p>“And?” Clark pressed.</p><p>“I have a small hole in one of the chamber walls of my heart,” Aria explained. “It’s barely larger than a pinprick. They said I’ve probably had it since I was a baby. They said if I hadn’t known about it before now, then it’s likely that it won’t ever have any major impact on my life. So long as I don’t develop any other heart-related issues, that is.” </p><p>“So, you’re okay?” </p><p>Aria nodded. “I’m okay.”</p><p>“Good. I’m glad.” Clark buried his nose in Aria’s hair once more. He’d allow himself that much, but just that much. It frightened him how much he wanted to hold her, to keep her close and never let go. How did he become so desperate for this thing humans called ‘affection’, and why did he want to share it with her?</p><p>“So...Aria and Clark have to wait,” Aria said slowly, “but what about Superman and Spectrum?”</p><p>Clark blinked owlishly, pulling away to look at her properly. She glanced up at him, a playful, coy look in her eyes. She laughed a little at his surprised expression. </p><p>“I’m mostly joking,” she assured him. “It’s just going to be very hard to not want to do this all the time. It’s comfortable, and I don’t really want to stop. Is that weird?”</p><p>“No, it’s not weird,” Clark said. He was the same, but it felt too soon to say so. Was this what it was always like? He’d thought he was in love with Lois back not-so-many years ago, but this was an entirely different feeling. This was comfortable, and warm. This was honeyed tea on a crisp autumn afternoon in Smallville. There were no expectations here. </p><p>“It’s funny, though,” Aria said, her hand reaching up to rest against his hand on her shoulder. “It’s almost like the whole world knew before we did. Everyone saw it in Superman and Spectrum. It seems silly that I didn’t just come out and say it.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say it?” Clark asked. “Before, I mean. The way you talked, it sounded like you’d been feeling this way since the beginning.”</p><p>“Fear of rejection, I suppose,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “I didn’t want to face the possibility of being turned away, so I took what I could from you that was just a step away from what I really wanted. I thought I could satisfy myself with taking your time with my school work and our dinner appointments. Clearly, I could not.” </p><p>Clark took her hand, bringing the knuckles of it to his lips. It wasn’t quite a kiss, more of a ghost of a touch. He’d never know what it was like to live with that kind of doubt or anxiety, but if he could relieve hers, even for a moment, he’d try his damndest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Lunar New Year and Valentine's Day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. But Zeus and his pantheon of kin, Take the first nine out of every ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kolby stared at the town car pulling up in front of her house. It looked identical to the one that brought Bruce that day they first met. No, this one was smaller. The other had been longer. Still, was there only one model of town car, or did Bruce just really like this one?</p><p>“Are they here?” her father asked, peeking out the office shutters. </p><p>“Looks like it,” Kolby said, nervous energy making her bounce on her toes. She watched as an older man stepped out of the driver’s door, coming around to open the door for Bruce. He actually came himself. Kolby was surprised. She pressed her thumb into the palm of her hand, dragging it across her skin towards her fingers. The sensation grounded her a bit. </p><p>“Come away from the door,” her mother hissed, tugging her back towards the living room. “If he sees you, you’ll just feel embarrassed.”</p><p>Kolby pouted; her mother knew her too well. She hid around the corner just as Bruce knocked on the door. Her mother opened it, greeting him warmly. </p><p>“She’ll be out in just a moment,” her mother assured Bruce. “She’s been very anxious about this conference.”</p><p>“A good anxious, I hope,” Bruce said, his tone light and casual. It fascinated Kolby to see the difference in the way Bruce and Batman held themselves. </p><p>“The good kind, yes,” her mother said. “She’s mostly worried about making a good impression, I think.”</p><p>“I’m sure everyone will love her,” Bruce insisted, and Kolby could just imagine the photograph-ready smile on his face. </p><p>She settled her backpack on her shoulders and rounded the corner. “Don’t say that now, Mr. Wayne. You’ll jinx me.” </p><p>Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. “Impossible, seeing as how they already adore you from what I’ve told them.”</p><p>Kolby felt her heart leap into her throat. “You’ve told them about me?!”</p><p>Bruce had mentioned her to the other superheroes?! Why? Oh god, now they had expectations. </p><p>Best to make a joke out of it. Control the narrative, Kolby. “How dare you give them expectations I have to live up to.” </p><p>“Kolby!” Her mother scolded, even as her father burst into laughter.</p><p>Bruce hid a chuckle behind his fist. “No, no. She’s entirely right. That was terribly rude of me. Are you ready to go, Kolby?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Kolby said with a nod. She paused. “Wait. No. One second.”</p><p>She hugged her mother, and then her father. “I’ll call you tonight before I go to bed...if I remember.”</p><p>She turned back to Bruce, grabbing her suitcase which had been waiting by the door. “Okay. Now I’m ready.” </p><p>There was a look in Bruce’s eye that she couldn’t quite place, something maybe a little sad. Whatever it was, it didn’t hang around for long. Bruce turned and opened the door for her, and the two of them left. </p><p>The older man at the car stepped towards Kolby as she and Bruce came down the steps. “Greetings, Miss Scott. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the Wayne Estate. May I take your bags?” </p><p>Kolby found herself feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights. A butler? Really? Was Bruce a noble in a Regency romance novel? “Oh, um, I’m okay? You don’t have to.” </p><p>Alfred smiled, clearly amused by her stumbling rejection. “Very well, Miss Scott. At least allow me to open the trunk for you.” </p><p>“Sure?” Kolby decided she probably wasn’t going to get used to this any time soon. “You can just call me Kolby, you know. I’m not, like, important enough to be a Miss Anything.” </p><p>“Nonsense, Miss Kolby,” Alfred said, popping open the car trunk. “I’m sure you’re plenty important to someone.” </p><p>Kolby paused for a moment, taking that in. “That’s the most encouraging thing anyone’s ever said to me.” </p><p>“I’m sure Master Clark will be able to top that easily,” Alfred said, and Kolby thought he was joking, but she couldn’t quite tell. </p><p>Bruce held the door open for her after she tucked her suitcase in the trunk, and Kolby wondered if she was supposed to just slide on through. That seemed silly, though. If Bruce wanted her on the other side, he would have opened the other door, right? </p><p>So, she settled herself on the passenger side, backpack on her lap. Alfred opened the door for Bruce on the driver’s side, and Kolby found herself basically trapped in a very small space with Bruce ‘The Batman’ Wayne. </p><p>“This is fine,” she muttered to herself, muffling her voice by talking into her backpack. “Totally fine.”</p><p>“Nervous?” Bruce asked as the car pulled away from her house.</p><p>“Immensely.” </p><p>“Don’t worry. I’ve asked the League to keep the reception small. Just the original seven, maybe a handful of other heroes.”</p><p>“Sure, of course. No problem, boss,” Kolby agreed stiffly. As if the fact she was ‘just’ meeting the rest of the original Justice League and ‘a handful’ of other heroes made it any less nerve wracking. Every single one of them was a larger-than-life icon. She was a sixteen-year-old nerd who sat on top of grocery stores and watched cars go by. She wasn’t exactly in the same league, pun entirely intended. </p><p>“You’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I hope so.” </p><p> </p><p>The drive to the airport was quiet. Kolby wasn’t sure what to talk about, and Bruce didn’t push, so she just pulled out her phone and opened up her language learning app. Kolby liked learning, even outside of a school environment (especially outside a school environment). Languages, while not easy to learn for many people (Kolby never really had an issue), were easy to find learning materials for. Well, most languages were easy to find materials for. </p><p>Her grandmother on her mum’s side spoke Irish Gaelic, thanks to the fact Kolby’s great-grandparents had been part of the Gaelic Revival movement back in the 1890s. Kolby’s mum had never had much of an interest in the language (especially since she was born and raised in the States), but Kolby wanted to continue the tradition. Finding lessons for it outside of Ireland, however, was pretty difficult. She also wanted to learn Scottish Gaelic, for her dad’s side of the family, but that was even harder to find -- especially since the revival only really started in 2005. </p><p>They arrived at a small, private airport. The place seemed absolutely deserted. Kolby made to open her door and step out, but Bruce stopped her. </p><p>“We’re not getting on the plane,” he said. “We’re going straight to the Watchtower. Do you have your costume?”</p><p>“Y-yeah?” Straight there? Not even an evening beforehand to give her some time to psych herself up? </p><p>“Change into it here.”</p><p>“In the car?”</p><p>Bruce opened his door, stepping out. “Can’t you?”</p><p>“I mean...yeah?” Kolby said. “It’s just gonna be kind of awkward.”</p><p>“You’ll make it work, I’m sure.” Bruce closed the door then, leaving a confused and pouting Kolby in the car. </p><p>“Absolute bastard,” she grumbled, reaching into the ‘secret inner pocket’ of her backpack to pull out her costume. </p><p>Changing shirts wasn’t too difficult, but once you got to the pants...well, Kolby really wondered if that one girl in science class who kept talking about her car-bound conquests was a contortionist. Bruce knocked on the door at one point when Kolby had her pants half-way up to ask if she was alright.</p><p>“You try putting on yoga pants in the backseat of a car!” Kolby shouted. “See if you can do it any faster than I can!” </p><p>When she finally tumbled out, coming face-to-face with Batman (or more specifically the bat symbol on his costume), Morrigan was even more frazzled than she had already been.</p><p>“Never again,” she hissed, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to fix the mess it’d become.</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Batman said, and Morrigan thought she heard some humor in his voice, but it was hard to tell. “Are you ready?”</p><p>“Wait...what about my stuff?”</p><p>“Alfred will be taking it to Gotham,” Batman said. “We’ll be returning there later. Any other questions?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Morrigan glanced around, finding no means of transportation beyond the small jet and the town car. “How are we getting to the Watchtower?” </p><p>Batman smirked, a finger rising to some sort of device in his ear. “Like this. J’onn. Two to beam up.”</p><p>Morrigan felt herself grow lighter, a fuzziness coming to her very sense of self. The world around her shifted, until she felt ground beneath her feet once again, and the fuzziness left. Her vision swam for a moment as she readjusted, her stomach flipping over itself.</p><p>“Fuck. I don’t like that,” she muttered, covering her mouth with a hand...just in case. </p><p>Batman set a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Give yourself a moment.” </p><p>Morrigan breathed deeply through her nose a few times to center herself and wait for the room to stop spinning. Slowly, she stopped feeling so sick, but she was definitely not looking forward to doing that again any time soon. </p><p>“Better?” Batman asked, retracting his hand.</p><p>Morrigan nodded. “Yeah. But can we please never do that again? Like, ever?” </p><p>Batman didn’t answer her, deciding it was better to just start walking deeper into the Watchtower and assume she’d follow him.</p><p>She did follow him, but that wasn’t the point!</p><p>Morrigan couldn’t help but be a bit weirded out that there was absolutely no one around. Batman had called someone named J’onn to beam them up, but there hadn’t been anyone at the teleporter pad when they arrived. It was spooky as hell and she didn’t like it. </p><p>She stuck close to Batman, keeping her concerns to herself. He didn’t seem all that worried, so she reckoned she didn’t need to be either...not that that stopped her, but whatever. Eventually, Batman stopped in front of a large door. He turned to her, and while Morrigan couldn’t see most of his face, she felt like he was looking at her expectantly. </p><p>Unsure of what he wanted, she simply nodded her head. Batman turned back to the door, and took a single step closer. The door slid open automatically, and Morrigan was greeted with a thunderous cheer from a room absolutely packed with brightly-colored costumes.</p><p>This...was way more than a ‘handful of heroes’. Someone had managed to cram what felt like the entirety of the League into this room. Morrigan stood stock-still, unsure of what to do. Her first instinct was to simply turn and walk away as quickly as possible. There was nowhere she could go though, and even if there was one of the heroes would surely catch her first. </p><p>Batman grumbled something under his breath, but stepped into the room anyway. He turned, noticing Morrigan hadn’t followed him in, and sighed. He shot a look to the other founders, who had gathered right by the door. Flash, seemingly taking this as his cue, zipped right on up to Morrigan, beaming brightly. </p><p>Morrigan yelped, stumbling back a step. Her whole body tensed, feeling utterly embarrassed by her own inability to deal with crowds. She braced herself for the teasing, the mockery that she had long since gotten used to at school.</p><p>It didn’t come. Flash didn’t laugh. His smile didn’t take on a sardonic tint. In fact, Kolby had never seen someone look so excited to meet her. </p><p>“Hey, sorry if we scared you,” Flash said, his tone light and carefree. “We were going to just have a few folks here, but one of the telepaths found out and, well, everyone wanted to meet you.” </p><p>He held out a hand, his smile going a little wider. “Wanna meet everyone?” </p><p>Morrigan chewed at the inside of her cheek a bit, staring at Flash’s hand. She did, she really did want to meet everyone. But…</p><p>She glanced up at Flash. Like Batman, she couldn’t see most of his face, but there was something so reassuring about his whole being. She reached out and took his hand. </p><p>“I’m Flash, by the way,” he said, as if it needed saying.</p><p>“I know,” she blurted out, nerves making her blunter than she meant to be. </p><p>Flash just laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah, I probably should have guessed that, huh?” </p><p>He pulled her towards the other founders, finally releasing her hand. Instinctively, she flexed her hand and then curled into a fist. Her whole arm felt warm and tingly, like she’d touched something vibrating at incredible speeds. </p><p>“Morrigan, right?” Flash asked. Morrigan nodded, swallowing thickly around the nervous bile crawling up her throat. Flash grinned, zipping around each founder in turn, introducing them. “Well, this is Wonder Woman. And GL, Hawkgirl, and J’onn. You know Bats, of course! And this is Superman!”</p><p>He zipped back to her side, a too-comfortable arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Welcome to the League!”</p><p>Morrigan’s eyes went wide, a renewed wave of panic filling her stomach with heavy dread. “Wait! I’m not joining the League, am I?” </p><p>Flash’s grin fell. “Do you not want to?”</p><p>Morrigan looked to the rest of the founders, recognizing that all of them seemed surprised by her question. “It’s not a question of want! I am so not qualified for this. I just got my powers three months ago, I’ve never fought any major criminals, let alone supervillains. And I can’t be dealing with the stress of League membership while trying to study for my AP exams; I’ll go grey before I turn 18!</p><p>“I appreciate the gesture, really, but the whole reason I’m hiding my training with Batman behind a summer internship is because I literally can not do it during the school year. I-I’m just a kid!” She shrank in on herself, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on her. She ducked under Flash’s arm, backing away towards the door. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>She went with her original plan, and took off down the hall. This was stupid, she thought. She was stupid. Where did she think she could go? Why did she think running was a good idea? What would they think of her now? She probably looked like a coward. And that made Batman look bad for bringing her here. He’d probably want nothing to do with her after this.</p><p>Still, that didn’t sting nearly as much as Flash’s clear disappointment. He’d been so excited, and he didn’t even know her. Did he even know how young she was? Or did it even matter? Given Batman’s penchant for kid sidekicks, it likely didn’t. </p><p>Morrigan found herself at a dead end before long. She was exhausted -- both emotionally and physically -- so she just sat herself down against the wall. She pulled up the hood of her shirt in a misguided and ineffective effort to hide. She felt her breath catch in her chest, and, before she knew it, she was sobbing into her knees.</p><p> And never before had she felt so small.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Been seeing a lot of Aria lately, figured it was time to check back in on Kolby. Poor girl got overwhelmed pretty quickly, but I can't really blame her. How would any of us feel getting plucked from little league and immediately being thrown into the World Series?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. (Oh, Dear I Don't Wanna be a Burden, But Could You Please be a Little More Concerned with) The Overactive Mind of a Believer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She felt Flash’s presence before she heard the echoing tip-tap of his shoes on the Watchtower’s metal floors. He felt like a living reactor -- radiating heat from the constant bouncing and vibrating of his molecules. He must be so restless all the time, Morrigan thought. She didn’t know how he could stand it. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Morrigan didn’t look up at him when he called, nor did she greet him in return. Frowning, he took a seat beside her on the floor. “You okay?”</p><p>Morrigan simply shook her head, squeezing her legs tighter. She didn’t want Flash to see her puffy face or her red eyes. She had embarrassed herself enough. But what was she supposed to do? She’d already explained to Dick that there was no way she could add any more responsibility onto her already packed schedule. Why hadn’t the League been told that? Why hadn’t Batman taken that into account? None of this should have happened.</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay.” Morrigan flinched at Flash’s warm hand settling on her shoulder, surprised by the sudden touch. She glanced his way, seeing nothing but a reassuring smile. “Sorry for freaking you out earlier. Bats gave us a talking to, after you left. He never meant for this to be about you joining the League. We all just assumed, and we made asses of ourselves. Should have listened to my Grammy Flash when she warned me about that, huh?”</p><p>Morrgian pushed up her glasses just a bit to rub the tears from her eyes. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say it but…”</p><p>Flash laughed, sounding a little relieved. “We’ve cleared out most of the guys who were in there. If you want to come back, it’s a lot more chill now. I don’t think half the people in there realized you’re still just a kid. I’m sure if they did, they would have been a little more mellow.” </p><p>Finally lifting her head, Morrigan asked, “Is everyone mad at me?”</p><p>“No, of course not!” Flash shook his head emphatically. “Well, GL was a little peeved until Bats explained what was going on. But he’s always a little peeved anyways, so don’t worry about it. </p><p>“So, d’ya wanna come on back? I’ll whip you up the best milkshake you’ve ever had and we can just sit and talk until you feel better. How’s that?” </p><p>Morrigan decided then and there that Flash was her new favorite hero. “Is it so good that it brings all the boys to the yard?” </p><p>Flash’s grin became even brighter. He stood, offering her his hand. “I could teach you, but I’d have to charge.”</p><p>“Sir, I am a broke high school student, how dare you attempt to extort me,” Morrigan joked, taking Flash’s hand once more. He laughed.</p><p>There was something comforting about holding someone’s hand, though Morrigan couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps humans were just made to touch and be touched, whether the intent behind it was familial, platonic, romantic, or whatever. She did read somewhere that humans were pack animals -- social creatures who needed each other. She wasn’t sure how true such a thing was, but she could be convinced.</p><p>Flash kept a hold of her hand the whole trip back to...whatever room they’d been at before. He rambled on about nothing important, but Morrigan was grateful that he was filling the silence without any expectations of her. </p><p>When they returned, the room -- which Morrigan could now see was a cafeteria of some kind now that people had cleared out -- was nearly deserted. The only ones left were the founders and three other heroes: Green Arrow, Black Canary, and Spectrum. Morrigan couldn’t help but wonder why those three. Well, Spectrum made sense, she supposed. She was also new, and was probably kept for that reason -- to give Morrigan someone she could relate to. The others, she couldn’t really figure out. Green Arrow seemed like a friendly guy in general, but Morrigan figured most heroes were generally friendly...except Batman, but that was beside the point. She didn’t know much of anything about Black Canary, save that she fought good and screamed really loud. </p><p>Sound powers were cool. Morrigan wished she had sound powers.</p><p>Before anyone could say anything, Flash was tugging her towards the kitchen. “No one say anything until I get some ice cream in this girl. She needs it. What’s your favorite flavor, Morri? Mind if I call you Morri?” </p><p>Morrigan shot Batman a ‘I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m not gonna make more of a fuss’ look. She hoped he read it properly. </p><p>“Honestly? Butter Pecan. Ooh! Or Pecan Pralines and Cream!” Morrigan shrugged when Flash shot her a curious look. “I’m from Texas. We like our pecans.” </p><p>Flash shrugged, and went digging through the containers of ice cream in the large, industrial freezer. “Bad news, my dude. No pecan ice cream anywhere.” </p><p>She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. But, I bet you have vanilla. And if you’ve got orange cream sodas up here, I can show you something almost as good as your boy-magnet milkshakes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wally West is Best Boy and I will never forgive DC for doing him so dirty over and over again :&lt;</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Burning Hearts Just Look Like Greens and Blues from Here</h2></a>
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    <p>Morrigan found herself at a large, round table, surrounded on all sides by members of the League. Batman sat to her right and Flash to her left. Batman wasn’t saying much, though Morrigan could feel the protective aura radiating off of him as he stared down anyone who dared even look at her.</p><p>Flash, on the other hand, would not stop talking. He was on his fourth creamsicle float, and the sugar rush was starting to show. Morrigan didn’t really mind, seeing as it kept her from needing to talk. It gave her time to calm down and acclimate to everything around her. And it gave her time to enjoy her float without interruption. </p><p>“Flash, please, don’t hog the new kid,” Green Arrow joked. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten tired of hearing it yet at this point, but we’re sorry about the misunderstanding before. Hope we didn’t scare you off from wanting to join the League later.” </p><p>Morrigan shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I made such a big deal out of it.” She looked down at the foamy orange mess in her glass, frowning. “I’m surprised you still want me to join the League at all after how I acted.”</p><p>“Sweetie, you’re a kid, and you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. Hell, I probably would have done the same thing when I was your age.” Black Canary said, sounding like the big sister Morrigan never had. </p><p>“I definitely would have done the same thing,” Spectrum said plainly.</p><p>“In fact, she did,” Flash said, leaning in like he was sharing some grand secret with her. “Didn’t even bother to step into the room. She just turned and walked away while the color drained from her face.”</p><p>Well, that made Morrigan feel a little better, at least. She took a sip of her float while Spectrum shrugged, seemingly unbothered. The two of them locked eyes, and Spectrum flashed her a quick smile. </p><p>Superman leaned forward, gesturing towards her with an open hand. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself. Batman’s told us a little, but it’s always good to hear from the source.” </p><p>What was there to tell, Morrigan wondered. “I’m not really sure what to say…”</p><p>“How about your name?” Green Arrow asked. “Tell us about it.”</p><p>Morrigan fidgeted with her glass, keeping her eyes on the orange foam rather than meeting anyone’s gaze. “The Morrigan is an Irish goddess, one of the Tuatha De Danan. Scholars aren’t entirely sure, but they think her name means something like ‘Queen of Phantoms.’ She’s a goddess of war, destiny, and witchcraft. It’s said she’s a seer with a great gift of prophecy. That’s not really all that relevant to me but…” Morrigan closed her eyes, letting her wings slip free. There were soft gasps from those around the table, less surprised and more fascinated. </p><p>“It’s said that she often took the form of a raven,” Morrigan said, her black wings settling against her back. “And the corvids found on a battlefield were her flock.” </p><p>“Is she real?”</p><p>Morrigan blinked at the question, turning to stare at Hawkgirl. “What?”</p><p>“Well, the Greek gods are real,” Hawkgirl said with a shrug. “We’ve met a few of them. So, I wonder if this Morrigan character is also real...and if she’s all that keen on you using her name.” </p><p>That...wasn’t something Morrigan had ever really considered. She didn’t know about the Greek gods, but if they were real then it stood to reason that so were the gods of Ireland. And other nations beyond even that. She wondered, briefly, if Zeus ever got pissy at Thor for letting his thunderstorms wander a bit too close to Greece.</p><p>“Well, I would never have considered using the name myself,” Morrigan admitted, her mind returning to the topic at hand. “When it first came to me, it was more like...someone was gifting it to me. If the Morrigan is real, I’d like to think she gave me permission to use it that night.” </p><p>That earned her some curious looks and a few murmurs between members of the League. </p><p>“What do you mean by someone ‘gifted’ it to you?” Green Lantern asked cautiously.</p><p>Morrigan’s brows furrowed as she tried to parse how to explain it. “I’m not really sure. I suppose you could explain it the same way one says they were struck by inspiration, or that their guardian angel looked after them. It came to me in a voice that was distinctly not my own.”</p><p>“Like someone contacted you telepathically?” J’onn offered. </p><p>“No, not so much,” Morrigan said with a shake of her head. “I’m afraid I don’t really know how to explain it.” </p><p>“I don’t think it really matters,” Flash said with a shrug. “It’s a cool name, though I gotta say it’s a little bit of a mouthful. Mind if I call you Morri? I asked you earlier but you didn’t answer and I don’t just wanna assume. Learned my lesson ‘bout that earlier today.”</p><p>Morrigan tried really hard to not make a face at that. “Honestly…” She paused, looking to Batman for permission. He didn’t nod, nor did he shake his head, so she took that as a sign that she was free to do what she willed. “Honestly, just call me Kolby.” </p><p>A name wasn’t an identity, after all. Not entirely anyway. Besides, Batman already knew, why couldn’t the other founders know? Now that she thought about it, it was probably important that the other founders did know. So much for Damian and his whole ‘keep the mask separate’ rule. Didn’t seem like many people really followed that anyway. </p><p>Flash grinned at her, looking like a kid given the key to Santa’s workshop. “Kolby, huh? You can call me Wally.” </p><p> </p><p>“Sir? Where are we going?” Morrigan asked, trailing behind Batman. </p><p>It was a few hours after the initial shock of her surprise almost-initiation into the League, and Batman decided that Morrigan needed to come with him to do something within the station, but wouldn’t tell her what. The Watchtower station was absolutely huge, and apparently nothing was centrally located, which was just poor planning and design. Morrigan could already think of a dozen ways to facilitate a more people-friendly layout. </p><p>Maybe she needed to go into civil engineering or something when she went to college. </p><p>“Since we’re here, we’re going to get you better outfitted for crime fighting,” Batman said without turning to look behind him at Morrigan. “Something more durable than a sweatshirt and yoga pants. Any requests?” </p><p>Smirking a little, Morrigan said, “A hoodie and some yoga pants.”</p><p>Batman finally looked over his shoulder at her, and Morrigan wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed. She was going to have to learn how to read even the smallest signals if she wanted to survive around a group of people who regularly hid half their faces.</p><p>“Look, if I’m going to be running around punching evil-doers, then I wanna be comfortable!” Morrigan argued mildly. “Plus, I don’t exactly have the, uh, assets to show off like someone like Wonder Woman does. Even if I did, I think that’d just get people in trouble.” </p><p>Batman ignored her comments. “Anything else?” </p><p>“I would say old man sunglasses, but make them fashion, but you’ve already got that covered,” Morrigan said with a grin, tapping at the side of her visor. She glanced down at her feet, stopping to examine her sneakers. “Some sweet kicks might be nice. I’m kinda just wearing my normal shoes, and that’s probably not the best idea.” </p><p>Batman also stopped, turning to face her fully. She stopped looking at her shoes as she felt his gaze bore a hole in the top of her head. She met his gaze, mildly confused at the staring. </p><p>“No shoelaces,” Batman said evenly. “You don’t want them coming undone in the middle of a fight.”</p><p>Morrigan shrugged. “Velcro, then.”</p><p>Batman shook his head, and continued down the hall. Morrigan laughed, running after him. She caught up with him, doubling her stride to keep up with his long gait. She turned, walking backwards so she could speak to him face-to-face.</p><p>“C’mon! I’m serious! Velcro would be great for hero shoes! It’s adjustable, quick to don and doff…” She laughed again at Batman’s confused look at her choice of words. He probably wasn’t used to teenagers using stuff like ‘don’ and ‘doff,’ but she played Dungeons and Dragons...or at least really wanted to. “Seriously, though. I don’t know why more of you don’t use it!”</p><p> Batman exhaled sharply, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in an almost-smirk. Morrigan grinned. Either Batman had a dumb sense of humor and no one knew that, or he just liked her enough to find her a little funny. Either way, two points for her. </p><p>No, she would not explain her points system. </p><p>A thought struck her, something Robin had mentioned. “Sir? Do you think it was a bad idea to tell them my name?” </p><p>Batman looked her way, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Why are you asking me that?”</p><p>“Well, Robin said something the other day...about keeping the mask separate,” Morrigan explained, turning around to walk forward again. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you thought that was okay for me to do.”</p><p>Batman made an acknowledging hum, taking a moment before he spoke. “Robin can be… overly enthusiastic about certain things. While it’s true it’s best to keep your life as a crime fighter away from civilians in your life, those who already understand what it means to wear a cape or cowl or -- ” he shot her a smirk “-- a hoodie, are safer to share things like your name with. Does that make sense?”</p><p>Morrigan nodded. “I think so. Thanks, Boss.”</p><p>“You can call me ‘Bruce’, Kolby.” </p><p>Kolby smiled, feeling a little bit better about the whole superhero thing. “Whatever you say, Boss.”</p>
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